


Two Weeks

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s06e09 Impact Winter, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2019-05-30 09:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: This is set the day Donna quits and takes a hard turn away from canon after the words, 'I quit.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

He knows it’s coming. He can see it in the way she looks at him, her eyes squinted in frustration, and in the way she talks to him, her voice with an edge of anger to it. And although she might disagree, he’s no idiot. He knows she’s unhappy; both with her job and with him. One of those two things bothers him more than the other, but he’s still denying that to himself. Or… he’s denying it again. He stopped denying it for a short period of time, but then a man walked in with flowers and kissed her in front of him. Now he’s back to denial.

He’s been racking his brain for a way to stop her from leaving him, but he hasn’t found it so he puts her off. He ignores her non verbal and often verbal clues and pretends everything is fine when it’s so apparent that nothing is. So far he’s been successful. Six lunches, cancelled. It’s easy to do really. There are always things coming up, always things of national importance, always things he can say can’t wait. He feels bad for putting her off like that; he’d love to have lunch with her. In fact, he misses having lunch with her. But he has to keep it up until he finds a way to stop her.

He’s kept his ear to the ground lately. She’s had three interviews and two offers. Clearly the third was a complete idiot and doesn’t deserve her service. He was tempted to call and tell the man that, then he remembered that he’s trying to stop all this from happening anyway.

But the two offers… both of them are for more money and more responsibility. He knows she doesn’t care about the money, at least not enough to make it factor into her decision, but she craves the responsibility and she’ll get it with either of these. He’s not proud of it, but he dropped a hint or two himself, and he thinks one of the offers will be rescinded soon.

He’s looked into the legislative department. There could be an opening there. It’s down a floor from him, at least a three minute walk from his office, but it’s in the building, so he might be able to live with it. But it doesn’t solve their problem, not the real one, and if it’s not going to be a solution, there’s no reason to let her go that far.

He’s looked into the East Wing as well, put out feelers, mentioned to Dr. Bartlet that she could use someone on staff who’s more familiar with the players on the Hill but still has clout with the West Wing. That’s farther; at least a four minute walk from his office, but it could help to solve the real problem. 

Of course, lately she doesn’t seem interested in solving the real problem. He’s become peppermint stuck in her teeth and the little boy she hates taking care of, and she’s just so damn angry. With him, yes, but with herself too he thinks. 

They took a wrong turn somewhere along the way and he wonders when it was. Cliff Calley, Amy Gardner, Jack Reece… they seem like logical answers, but he doesn’t really think they are. None of them mattered enough. Maybe it was that she wandered into his office that day instead of Sam’s or CJ’s or Toby’s. If she’d worked for someone else… But he doesn’t think that’s it either. They were a great team. Are… are a great team, at least for a little while longer. And had she not taken that leap of courage and he that leap of faith all those years ago, he doesn’t think they’d be the same now. He knows he wouldn’t be. But still, there was a wrong turn, or several, and he can’t help wishing they could just start over.

Which leads to option number three. The upcoming election’s a mess. Baker’s dropped out, leaving Hoynes and Bingo Bob as the front runners. President Bingo Bob or sex on the seal with 20 year old interns, he can’t decide which is worse. Except that neither of them will beat Vinick, which means that everything he sacrificed for will be undone. Leo wants him to deal with it, to find the next Bartlet. He thinks he may have, and if he and Donna went away to run the man’s campaign maybe they could start over. Go back to the beginning, to their beginning, and go about it in a whole new way. But he doesn’t know if she even wants that anymore. He’s sure she did once, but he doesn’t see that doe-eyed look of adoration from her anymore. He misses that look.

He’s been arguing with Will for almost two full minutes this time when she comes up, saving him again. They begin down the hallway together flawlessly, their own version of an intricate waltz both in step and in conversation. Who would he walk with if she were in the East Wing?

“We’re having our conversation now.”

He starts to panic as he always does when she brings this conversation up, but quickly shakes it off. “Don't you think it would be irresponsible for me to leave this administration before the end of the second term?” he asks, knowing her well enough to know she’s asking herself the same question. 

“It’s a conversation about me, not you,” she shoots back in anger. 

It disappoints him that she didn’t read into his last sentence; he was hoping to give her pause. No matter, there are ways to avoid the conversation and he comes up with one quickly. “I got to get over to the OEOB.”

“You have to sit down and talk to me, that's what you have to do.”

“You're very demanding today,” he says, giving her a sideways glance before bringing the conversation back to him. He just needs thirty more seconds of bullshit, then he’ll pass through the door out of the bullpen and she won’t follow. “Even Leo thinks I should be wandering the American byways in search of the next president.”

“I quit.”

His heart stops beating on the spot and somehow he just knows that toying with her anymore could kill them. She’s standing a few feet back; she stopped as she said the words and his momentum took him a few steps forward, putting a distance between them that makes him queasy. It takes him a second to muster the strength to move, but then he’s taking her firmly by the arm and hauling her the opposite way towards his office. She stumbles a bit, but then walks with him silently. “Hold all my calls, Janice,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“CJ’s been…”

“All of them,” he says closing the door behind them.

Once the door’s closed, he stares at it for a few seconds before turning to face her. She looks resolute but not angry, and he bites back the anger coursing through him. He knew this was going to happen, so he’s not sure why he’s suddenly so pissed off.

“Josh…”

“No,” he says resolutely.

She straightens herself out, standing taller, and suddenly she does look angry. “This isn’t your decision to make. I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for weeks.”

“Then talk to me,” he spits out.

She chuckles harshly. “You’ve been ignoring me for three weeks and suddenly you want to talk?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you; I’ve been putting this off.”

She’s quiet for a second. “You knew,” she states as fact. 

He stares at her before nodding crisply. Of course he knew.

“You talked to Ruthersford? Got him to take back the offer?”

There’s no use denying it, but he doesn’t admit it either. Still, she knows him well, so has her answer. Fury takes hold of her face and she steps forward and grabs the door handle. He steps between her and the door, pushing it closed and leaning against it. “No.”

She glares at him. “I just quit; you don’t get to tell me no anymore.”

“Yeah,” he snaps. “Let’s talk about that. You just quit the job I gave you a chance to do. When you had nothing, including qualifications, I gave you a job and now you just announce…” 

“I tried to talk to you about it,” she shouts, tears pricking her eyes. 

He leans over and put his hands on his thighs, hanging his head. This isn’t getting them anywhere and it certainly isn’t the reason he dragged her into his office. He takes several deep breaths and looks up at her again. She’s even angrier and the tears in her eyes are gone.

He sighs. “What can I do to get you to stay?”

She glares at him. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I’m sorry I talked to Ruthersford.”

“No you’re not.”

She’s right, so he doesn’t insist upon it. Instead, he appeals to her sense of loyalty. It’s a low blow, but he’s spent so long avoiding this conversation that he failed to prepare for it. “I need you. We only have a year left to do what we came here to do. You’re abandoning me now?”

“I’m not abandoning you,” she says without remorse. “I’m quitting my job. A few hundred people have quit working for you over the last seven years.”

“I don’t give a shit about a few hundred people. We’re talking about you. You I trusted to stay.” 

“I know you need someone who knows where your dry cleaning is, but…” she trails off, landing her own low blow.

“This isn’t about my dry cleaning.”

“It isn’t? Not even a little?” she asks doubtfully with raised eyebrows. 

“That’s why you’re quitting?” he asks incredulously. “Because of errands?”

She closes her eyes and when she opens them again she’s calmer, less angry. “I need more responsibility,” she says evenly.

He shrugs. “Okay, we’ll pass the smaller things onto Janice. Find you more to do.” 

Her anger subsides a bit more and she almost smiles. “You’ve given me as much responsibility as you can in this position. You and I both know that. It’s just not enough anymore.”

“I’m not enough anymore, you mean.”

Her eyes widen and she looks quickly away. “This isn’t personal,” she says quietly.

“The hell it isn’t,” he shouts and they’re back to this. “You think I can’t tell that you’re pissed at me?”

She shakes her head furiously back and forth. “I’m not pissed at you.”

“Bullshit! You’ve been pissed at me since you got back from…” He stops suddenly and the room fills with a deafening silence.

“I’m not mad,” she finally says. “I’m…” she stops and takes a deep breath, then sinks into a visitor’s chair. “…frustrated. I’m frustrated with this job and doing things I’ve outgrown. And that makes me frustrated with you, because you expect me to do those things. Which… I know, it’s my job to do them, but…”

“What about another department? Legislation, the First Lady’s office…”

“There’s only a year left here, Josh. I need to find something to take me past this.”

It’s happening. He’s done everything he can to stop it, but it’s happening anyway. He slouches away from the door and sits in the chair next to her, then rubs his hands over his face and through his hair. “Don’t go,” he says, looking at the floor.

“I can’t stay here just because I enjoy working with you.”

He wants to ask her if she can stay just because she enjoys being with him, but he’s afraid of the answer. “So this is it; you’re giving me your two weeks notice?” he asks the floor.

“I… I was…” she stops and he looks over at her.

“What?”

“I was planning on giving you two weeks three weeks ago.”

His eyes widen. “You’re not giving me two weeks?” he asks in that high squeaky voice of his that he hates.

She looks forward, not meeting his eyes, something she’s done a lot over the last few months. “I think it’s best if…”

“I need two weeks,” he says adamantly, as if there’s no question and he won’t accept anything else.

She looks over at him then and the anger’s back. “So you can call the EPA and get my other offer rescinded?”

The thought certainly crossed his mind and he almost smiles at how well she knows him. “I won’t.” She scoffs and looks away again. “I won’t,” he says again, quieter and more serious this time.

She looks down at her lap and his eyes follow to see her ringing her hands. She’s considering it; it’s the best news he’s received since they left the bullpen. Two weeks would give him time to… he doesn’t know what, but something.

“You don’t want to work for the EPA anyway; you can find something better than that.” Her hands stop fiddling and ball into fists, and he’s quick to reiterate. “But if it’s what you decide to take, I won’t stand in your way.”

Her hands relax again and she looks up. He follows and looks at her. “I wanted to be the legislative director for Senator Ruthersford.”

He knows that, which is why he’d made sure that wouldn’t happen. “You want me to call him back?”

She shakes her head. “He already filled it.”

‘Good,’ he thinks, but is smart enough not to say out loud. “Then give me two weeks; find something else that you really want.” She starts chewing on her bottom lip; she’s considering it again. “You can put me down as a reference.”

She scoffs again. “Right.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ll be good.”

“Of course you will,” she deadpans and he smiles a little; things have relaxed. It’s the worst possible situation he can imagine, but she’s not as angry and they’re almost bantering. Not quite, but almost.

“I will,” he says with a grin. “I’ll even pretend that you’re valuable.”

She grins back at him, albeit reluctant. “I am valuable.”

He shrugs noncommittally. “If you say so.”

The room’s quiet for a few seconds and then she stands up. “Two weeks, effective immediately.”

His smile widens and he stands up with her. “It might take you a while to…”

“Two weeks,” she says pointedly, cutting him off.

“Fine. Two weeks… or so.”

“Josh…”

“You shouldn’t rush into another job. Take your time, field your offers. I’ll help, it’ll be fun.”

“You will absolutely not help.”

“But…”

“And in two weeks, I expect you to take me to lunch to celebrate my new job. Someplace nice.”

His smile becomes somber and he shakes his head. “Dinner. You deserve dinner.”

Her smile fades and tears glisten her eyes, making them brighter. It takes her a few seconds to reign in her emotions and then she nods and leaves quietly. Once she’s gone, he falls back into the visitor’s chair. Two weeks. He’s got two weeks to convince her not to leave him.


	2. Two Weeks

She hasn’t been gone from his office for even five minutes when he has a job lined up for her in both the legislation department and the East Wing. It won’t work and he knows it, but they’re there in case he gets desperate. 

He spends the rest of the day trying to concentrate on the meteor headed towards earth, but he keeps coming back to the fact that she’s leaving him. He’s been passed up for promotion, he’s getting his projects taken away, he’s taking orders from CJ, who really has no idea what she’s doing, and even Charlie’s bossing him around. She’s leaving him now? Now?

He reminds himself not to think of it that way; tells himself to remember that she’s quitting her job, not him. But it doesn’t work. He can tell himself anything he wants to, but the fact remains that in two weeks she’ll have left him and he would never do that to her.

At that thought, the anger returns. He would do anything for her, damn it, how dare she just walk out on him. He took a chance on her when no one else would, he trusts her with far more than any typical assistant, he listens to her suggestions, watches her back… He risked jail for her for fuck’s sake, dropped everything to be with her when she was almost killed, saw his life fading away while she lay of that damn operating table. How dare she leave him! He loves her, doesn’t she know that?

He doesn’t realize he’s thrown his paperweight against the wall until he hears it smash into pieces, and even then all he can do is look over at the remnants of it. His door opens several seconds later and it’s her, wanting to make sure everything’s ok. He barely tries to cover the anger, so he’s not surprised when she sees it written across his face and knows exactly where it came from. She seems confused at first, and why wouldn’t she be? When she left his office two hours earlier, things had seemed ok. She looks away and leaves without cleaning it up, then avoids him for the rest of the day. 

He gets pretty drunk that night when he finally leaves the office at a little before midnight. He won’t be able to sleep anyway, so he might as well drink. By two o’clock, he’s got a pretty good plan, but by six a.m. it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

Things are awkward that day at work and he thinks she’s regretting giving him a two week notice. His anger certainly isn’t helping his case; he’ll never convince her to stay by making her miserable, but he can’t seem to let it go. And what’s worse is that he knows it’s just covering up other feelings; betrayal, love, lust, and a thousand other things he feels for her on a regular basis. 

He runs into Will Bailey in the Mess around noon and wonders if he’s being stalked. Will’s been in the West Wing more the last few weeks than he has the last two years. He’s not interested in running Bingo Bob’s campaign; Will needs to get that through his head.

Which is exactly what he’s about to say when Will blindsides him.

“I was surprised to hear from Donna.”

He’s just taken an absolutely huge bite of his hamburger and swallows some of it so that his mouth, while still full, isn’t going to drip food. “About what?”

Will sits down at his table and he’s pissed again; that’s Donna’s spot. Will can’t sit there just because Donna isn’t. “About…” Will pauses as if maybe he shouldn’t say anything, then continues matter-of-factly. “About a job. She told me you knew she was looking.”

He feels like he’s been punched in the stomach and his hamburger falls out of his hands to a heap on his cafeteria tray. “Donna came to you for a job?” he asks in total shock and disbelief.

Will looks at him for a second. “I told her I wouldn’t poach her away from you,” he says defensively. “She said that wasn’t an issue.”

His first instinct is to tell him ‘fuck yes, it’s an issue,’ but he manages restraint. “Donna’s not coming to work for Bingo Bob.”

“The Vice-President,” Will reminds him. “The next President.”

Josh laughs harshly. “You don’t believe that anymore than I do.”

“He’s what we’ve got to work with Josh. President Bartlet picked him.”

“Hafley picked him.”

Will nods slightly. “Then run the campaign; make him the man he needs to be,” he challenges.

Suddenly it’s clear and Josh pushes his tray forward so he can lean in and get right in Will’s face. “Don’t use Donna to get me.”

Will leans back and shakes his head. “I’m not. But if I can’t have you, she’s the next best thing. She’s not ready to run the campaign, but she’s spent seven years shadowing you. That alone makes her useful.”

It’s been almost eight, but Josh doesn’t say that. And Donna’s anything but a shadow, but he leaves that out as well. “She won’t work for Bingo Bob,” he spits out instead, standing up and walking away from the table, his lunch and Will.

He’s going to kill her. Bingo Bob? If he’s taught her anything over the last eight years, and he’s taught her plenty, it’s integrity. Now she’s going to work for Bingo fucking Bob? No fucking way. He doesn’t realize how quickly he’s moving through the hallway and up the stairs from the mess until he passes Leo, who moves slowly and relaxed these days. “Slow down, the meteor didn’t hit,” Leo says with a chuckle.

Josh whips around; he hadn’t even seen him there. “I’m… sorry, I was looking for Donna.” He takes a deep breath. “What’s up?” he asks impatiently.

Leo shakes his head. “Nothing. Something going on?” 

“No,” Josh lies.

Leo starts walking with him, too slowly, back towards the bullpen. “I saw the Vice-President playing tennis yesterday.”

Josh scoffs. “Will thinks they can beat Vinick by making Russell look young.”

“It’ll take more than that,” Leo says as they enter the bullpen. 

Josh nods, his focus now on Donna. She’s sitting at her desk working as if nothing’s going on. As if she’s not about to go work for Bingo Bob Russell, the joke of the Democratic Party. How could she abandon everything right with the Democratic Party for everything wrong with it? 

“He’s consistent, he’s bipartisan, he’s not tied to tobacco or oil,” Leo continues. “And the man can campaign.” 

“Excuse me,” he mumbles to Leo before walking towards her desk. He takes two or three steps before it hits him and he turns back. “Anyone who studies their voting records...” he says to himself.

Leo nods and starts to leave. “It’s an easy choice really.”

Josh watches Leo walk towards CJ’s old office and wonders if he knows what he just told Josh to do. He probably doesn’t, except that Leo knows everything. A smile starts creeping up on his face, his first since Donna walked out of his office yesterday. It’s going to be a tough sell, but he’s got the beginnings of a plan. 

He turns back towards Donna’s desk. She’s working diligently, just more proof that he can’t let her go. He sidles up to her desk and sits on the corner. She looks up at him, then looks back at her desk. She isn’t avoiding him so much as she’s just done with him. “Congressman Myers called about 743.”

He nods. “I need something from you.”

She stops typing and stares at her hands for a second before looking back up at him differently. He tries to read her face, but she speaks too quickly for him to figure out how exactly. “What?” she asks a little brighter.

“I need you to pull all of Vinick’s and Russell’s votes.”

She looks more interested now. “Why?”

He shrugs. “They’re the presumptive nominees for President. I need to know everything about how they’ve voted in the house and senate. Anytime they’ve gone against their party, any discrepancies or changing their votes on issues, any bill they’ve sponsored, how they vote overall on education, healthcare, women’s issues… Also, find out who their big contributors are. NRA, tobacco, oil… who’s calling in favors from them.”

She’s writing down everything he says, nodding as he speaks. “You’re going to help Will get the Vice-President elected?” 

He raises his eyebrows at her question but quickly hides his expression, unsure if telling her ‘not a chance in hell’ would make her more or less likely to join Russell’s campaign. “I just want to know what we’re dealing with. Besides,” he adds in a teasing voice. “I haven’t decided who to vote for.”

She chuckles and looks back at him and for a second everything feels right again. “When do you want this?”

“Can you work on it today?”

She looks at him skeptically. “You’re asking?”

He cracks a smile. “I’m being nice. I don’t want to overwork you.”

“Since when?”

He stands. “You’re right. Do the same thing for Matthew Santos.”

“Congressman Santos?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning back against her glass particle. “He claims he’s not running for Congress again. Before we convince him to, I want to know if he’s worth fighting for.”

She nods. “I’ll pull their voting records first so you can go over them.”

He shakes his head; that won’t work. “You go over them. You know what I’m looking for. Put a report together, nothing formal. We’ll go over it tomorrow over lunch.”

Her eyes perk up and she smiles genuinely. “Lunch?”

He starts heading towards his office. “Don’t I owe you a salad or something?”

“At least one,” she calls out happily before turning back to her desk.


	3. Two Weeks

He walks out of his office and up to her desk at exactly one o’clock the next afternoon. The meteor didn’t hit and the President’s fixing China from a wheelchair, so there’s not a lot to do at the office, but even if that weren’t the case, he’s not going to miss this lunch. She’s on the phone and looks casually up, her face showing mild surprise at the coat he’s putting on.

She hangs up and hands him three binders, the neat and no doubt thorough reports she’s put together for him, then stands and puts on her own coat. Her hair is underneath the collar and he watches almost mesmerized as she pulls it out and lets is land against her shoulders. He thinks he should be used to that after seeing it so many times, but it never fails to make him want to reach forward and do it for her. 

Once she’s put on her coat and grabbed her purse, they leave through the front gate and walk to the corner to catch a cab. Instead of a place nearby, he instructs the driver to take them to Star of Siam in Adams Morgan. It’s quiet there and is far enough away from the Hill to keep them from running into anyone. For once, he wants to have a meal with her without interruption.

Conversation is awkward on the way to the restaurant. He’s careful not to ask about her job search; he’s not sure how he’s going to pull it off, but he doesn’t want her to know that he knows about the job offer from Will. Personal topics seem almost off-limits while they’re on such unstable ground, and that leaves little else other than the report, which he doesn’t want to discuss in front of anyone. He does ask her if the Star of Siam is ok, but it’s just for the sake of speaking. He knows it’s one of her favorites.

“Your mom liked her Hanukah gift?” she asks after a few minutes of awkward silence.

He nods; she always likes the gifts Donna picks out for her. “She said she didn’t need anything that nice,” he says with a pointed look her way.

She shrugs. “I’m in charge of shopping and I say she deserves it.”

He smiles at her aloofness. “I don’t even want to know what I paid for it, do I?”

She grins, chuckles a little bit even. “When your credit card bill comes, just pay it. Don’t even look at it. In fact, bring the unopened bill and your checkbook to me and I’ll…”

She stops suddenly and looks out the window. He doesn’t say anything, because what’s he supposed to say? He’s already humiliated himself by pretty much begging her to stay.

“It’s not that I won’t miss it,” she says tentatively a minute later, still looking out her window. 

He’s looking out his own window and doesn’t turn towards her. He shouldn’t ask; he knows he shouldn’t, but he does anyway. “Miss what?”

The work, the importance of it all, the building, the president… he doesn’t know what he expects her answer to be; just what he wants it to be. “All of it,” she says, then pauses for several seconds. “Spending the day with you,” she adds softly.

He feels somewhat hopeful at her statement, and somewhat angry. If she likes spending the day with him so damn much, why won’t she stay? He doesn’t love it there anymore either; not with CJ fumbling through Leo’s job and the whole damn world at war. But with her there he wouldn’t be anyplace else; why can’t she show him the same devotion?

It’s only a few more minutes to the restaurant, but neither says anything else until they get there. When they do, he hands the driver a few bills and gets out, then holds the door open while she scoots to his side and slips gracefully out onto the sidewalk. Even pissed off at her, he watches to catch a glance of inner thigh as she gets out of the car. As usual, he doesn’t get it.

It’s quiet while they look at the menus, but once they order things get easier. She pulls the files out from under the table and hands them to him. “What’d you find out?” he asks as he flips through the first one. He can only hope at this point that Bingo Bob’s voting record is as bad as he thinks it is and that Matt Santos’ is as good as he thinks it is.

“Senator Vinick votes his conscience, constituents be damned,” she says quietly, leaning in so no one overhears them.

“They must not mind, they’ve elected him to five six-year terms,” he says, putting down the folder in his hand and picking up the one for Vinick. “What else?”

“He crosses party lines regularly on abortion and minimum wage, he’s consistently tough on foreign relations and crime, he’s in favor of alternatives for fuel, he’s voted against almost every form of tax increase ever introduced…”

“What about education?” he asks, looking up at her. 

She tilts her head, makes a little face that he thinks is cute. “He votes against budget increases… a lot.”

Josh raises an eyebrow. “He’s against education?”

“Not against it really…”

He smiles; she’s impressed, but not overly so. He needs Vinick to come in second place here. So far so good.

“He’s not in favor of over spending. He’s not in favor of paying anyone’s way through college or sending anyone who doesn’t deserve to go. He’s not in favor of private school vouchers. He’s pro community college, trade school, things like that.”

He nods and flips the page to healthcare. “He’s for socialized medicine?” he asks, surprised.

“He’s for whatever is going to get people healthy.”

“Does he have a plan for it?”

She shakes her head. “No, but he will. It’ll be a major point of his campaign.”

He looks up at her and smirks. “It will, huh?”

She nods confidently. “Definitely.”

They continue through Vinick’s highs and lows until their lunch comes, then take a break to eat pad Thai and coconut chicken soup. The conversation is easier; they stick mostly to talk of the Chinese delegation and holiday parties he’s trying to avoid.

Once they’ve mostly finished their lunches, and are icking things off each other’s plates and pushing uneaten food around, he brings up Bingo Bob. “What about Russell?”

She looks up at him, as if she’s been caught, but he ignores it and pulls the folder for Russell out from underneath his napkin. She shakes herself out of it quickly and puts on a positive voice. “He’s very loyal to the party.”

He’s looking down at the folder when she says it, and he stops mid page turn and looks up at her questioningly. “Meaning…”

“He’s… a team player.”

He tilts his head; gives her a look. “What are you telling me? He voted with the party most of the time?”

She glances down at her napkin. “All the time.”

This shocks him and he flips through a few more pages to Russell’s stats. “He never voted against the party?” he asks in a less than manly voice.

“There’s something to be said for watching out for your party.”

He looks up at her. She’s defending him? Bingo Bob? “There’s something to be said for independent thought! Donna, this guy’s an idiot!”

“He finds it more important to support his party than to…” 

“Follow his conscience?” he shrieks.

“He follows his conscience,” she says louder. “He co-sponsored more than a hundred bills.”

His eyes widen. “Co-sponsored? So what… he stood up and pointed to someone who was smart enough to introduce a bill and said, ‘yeah, let’s do that.’?”

She takes a deep breath and sighs. “There’s more to it than that, Josh.”

“How many bills did he sponsor?”

“He…” she stalls.

“How many?”

She pauses and looks over at the wall. “One.”

“One bill? He sponsored one bill in thirteen years in Congress?”

She looks back at him and nods. “Yes.”

“For?”

“Money for the families of coalminers killed while on duty.”

He nods. That makes sense. “So, his biggest contributor was and still is the coalminer’s union, and the one bill he sponsored in Congress was to benefit them.”

She looks down at the table and he wonders if she realizes that she can’t look him in the eye while talking this idiot up. It makes him feel a little better that on some level she knows it’s not good enough. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t need to be done.”

He shakes his head and smiles sadly at her. It’s like looking back in time; this is what he used to do when he worked for Hoynes. “Donna,” he says softly. “It’s just me. You can call a spade a spade.”

She looks up at him and he sees for the first time that she’s torn. So she is considering taking Will’s job offer, and she’s trying to convince herself that she should. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. 

Their server clears their plates and asks if they’d like desert. They both decline, but Josh orders coffee for himself and tea for her. He glances at her and can tell by the look on her face that she’d rather just leave. He needs to pull her back. 

“I don’t know how you can even drink that stuff,” he says in what he hopes is a teasing voice when the waiter sets the small pot of it on the table.

She looks up from pouring it into the miniature cup, and must see the laughter in his eyes, because she relaxes a little bit. “It’s very soothing.”

“Any why don’t they give you a real cup for it? That’s just ridiculous.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes at him, but reels it in and stares at him. “The president wasn’t ready when you were getting him elected,” she says quietly.

“No,” he agrees, shaking his head. He leans forward, putting his elbows on the table between them. “But he was the right man to get ready.”

She looks at him for a second and then nods.

“So,” he says in what he hopes is a lighter voice while dumping packets of sugar into his coffee cup. “What about this Matthew Santos guy?” 

She takes a drink of her tea. “Don’t let him quit.”

Score! He feels like shouting! “No?” he asks, trying not to smirk.

“No. He’s liberal, he’s progressive, he’s bipartisan when he needs to be, he’s idealistic…”

“How’s his record?”

“Stable.” She pulls the third folder out from underneath the other two and hands it to him. “There were a few times he voted against a bill and then switched when it was reintroduced later…”

“Do you know why?”

She shakes her head. “I need to research those bills.”

He nods. “Good. What else?”

“He’s got some… progressive ideas on education, but they make sense even if they are a little idealistic. He’s sponsored two bills having to do with education programs for welfare recipients, an immigration bill, a bill for public pre-school programs… He’s from Texas, but doesn’t take money from oil or gun companies. He votes fairly closely to party lines, but not exclusively. He’s very strong in healthcare; he’s sponsored or co-sponsored more than ten healthcare bills since he took office and he’s only been there seven years.” She takes a drink of her tea. “He just got that $5 million cap on the Patient’s Bill of Rights.”

“I know,” he says nodding. “That’s what made me think we should keep him.”

“You definitely need to keep him, but…” she stops and looks at him for several seconds. “What about the Senate?”

He raises an eyebrow. “The Senate?”

She nods. “Bratlien’s a thousand years old and polling low; Santos might be able to take it from him.”

He smiles; Bratlien’s one of the most conservative republicans in the Senate. She’s definitely thinking the right way. He just needs her thinking bigger.


	4. Two Weeks

He’s unsettled by the awkward pauses and strained conversations between them. Lunch was stressful for both of them; a rollercoaster ride of anger, friendship, defensiveness, trust, and confusion. But it wasn’t fun or easy or flirtatious, and if he’s being honest with himself, it hasn’t been for a few months. 

She’s on edge around him; not quite sure how to act now that she’s resigned. He thinks she feels better that it’s out there and that he’s still speaking to her, but she seems too be waiting for the other shoe to drop at the same time. And it will drop, he knows. It will drop heavily if he can’t convince her to stay with him. Whether that’s her fault or not he’s still not sure, but her concerns are valid. If she leaves, that other shoe will drop.

Which is probably why she’s hiding the fact that she’s considering or has accepted Will’s offer. He’s glad she’s hiding it, because it’s helping his plan, but it’s also making the stress between them that much worse. She doesn’t like to lie to him; it’s not in her nature, and he can see her unease around him as she omits it from their conversations. 

For the briefest of seconds, he thinks maybe this thing isn’t worth trying to fix. They’ve always hurt each other, and while most of the time it’s been an accident, it hasn’t made the pain any less. Maybe they’d be better off just cutting ties and going about their own lives. It would hurt like hell for a while, but then maybe he’d just go numb. But the thought of her out of his life, even as brief as that thought is, makes him absolutely sick. He doesn’t want to know the man he’d be without her in his life.

They need to laugh, he decides around seven o’clock, when he’s sitting in his office thinking of ways to get Santos elected President. He’s certain now that Santos is the right man, and he can’t help smiling when he realizes that the final push came from Donna. Which is just another reason he can’t let her go, of course. Her real value to him is the way she thinks; innocent idealism mixed with the political knowledge she’s learned from him over the years. Will won’t understand that value.

He sighs and puts down his pen, then stands and goes out to check on her. He feels the need recently to make sure she’s still there. He walks out of his office and to her partition, watching her work. He knows she knows he’s there, but she finishes up what she’s doing before speaking to him while still looking at her computer.

“I called Congressman Santos’ office. He’s is in Houston for the holidays.” 

He takes a few steps inside her area. “When’s he coming back?”

“January tenth.”

“The tenth?” he asks unbelievably.

She spins slowly around to face him. “Congress is in recess, Josh. This is his vacation.” He rolls his eyes and she shakes her head. “Please don’t lecture me on congressional recesses,” she says with a slight twinkle in her eye.

“I’m not!” he defends loudly. Except that yes, of course he is. “It’s crap, Donna. Recess is for elementary school, not Congress. The President doesn’t get recess. Why the hell should…” he trails off at the look of amusement on her face, entranced by the dancing in her eyes. It changes as she notices him staring transfixed at her, and she holds his gaze for a second before looking away. One of them always looks away. “Anyway,” he says, looking at his own shoes. “I need him here. He’s got to declare by the fifteenth.”

She nods and spins back to face her desk. “Which is why you’re flying to Texas tomorrow; I’m looking for flights for you.”

“Texas,” he whines, looking up and walking around to the front of her desk. He hates Texas. They never win Texas.

“Yes, Josh,” she says while clicking away at her mouse. “The evil state of Texas. Isn’t it worth it if he stays in the House?”

“I thought you said the Senate.”

Her head snaps up to his. “Really?” she asks hopefully, a huge smile on her face.

“We’ll see,” he says noncommittally. That’s not the plan, but convincing Santos to run for Senate was actually a very good idea; it’s what he would do if the Vice-President wasn’t Bingo Bob or if Baker was still in the race. Santos could use a few more years of exposure; that’s going to be the hardest part of the race. “I need to work on the details in the morning. Make sure we get an afternoon flight.”

Her eyes widen and he’s glad to see excitement in them. “We?”

“You know more about him than I do,” he says, nodding. Her smile widens and he thinks again that they need to laugh. “Get your coat; let’s get dinner.”

“Dinner?” she asks, as shocked by the request as by the change of topic.

“Yeah.” 

“But we had lunch,” she reminds him.

He shrugs. “So now we’ll have dinner.” He doesn’t give her time to answer, just walks towards his office to pack his book bag. 

********** 

They arrive in Houston the next night at nine after spending the day putting together an eight point plan to get Santos to the Senate. He’s mentally changed each of the points to fit a presidential campaign instead of a senatorial one, plus added one more to it; Donna and him.

He’s going to have to tell her, and fairly soon. He can’t blindside her in the man’s house; she’d never forgive him for making her look like an idiot. And he wants them to go in together as if they could do it; as if the two of them could make him President. He doesn’t want Santos to doubt her abilities because he didn’t prepare her for what was going to happen. And he doesn’t want it to look like he’s bringing her along for the ride. She’s ready to do this on a real level with him..

They grab a quick dinner and it’s the easiest meal they’ve had together in months. He wonders if she even notices that they’ve had five meals in a row together. After dinner, they take a cab to their hotel and when she looks at him strangely as he takes her suitcase from her and rolls it into the hotel, he can’t help thinking that he can be a real bastard sometimes. 

They’re in the elevator when he remembers that it’s four days before Christmas and he hasn’t gotten her anything. Unlike last year, she didn’t try to slip in her own gift when she was doing his gift shopping and he realizes it’s probably because they weren’t in a good place three weeks ago and she probably didn’t think he’d get her anything at all. For some reason that thought hits him hard and it takes him a moment of deep breaths to find his voice again.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” he asks, looking at the elevator door.

“I haven’t decided,” she says almost reluctantly. “It’s on Sunday, so I could go home Saturday for a quick trip, I guess.”

The elevator stops and the doors open onto the third floor. “The day after tomorrow? Flights will be expensive.”

She shrugs as they walk down the hallway towards rooms 329 and 331. “Things have been kind of… up in the air. I didn’t know what my schedule would be like.”

He looks at her questioningly but she’s looking straight ahead. And then it hits him; she thought she might have a new job by now. “Well…” he says, trying to recover. “If you decide to go, you can take Monday off.” 

She glances over at him. “Thanks,” she says with a small smile. She stops at room 329 and pushes the keycard into the slot. “Mom’s been complaining that I haven’t been home all year and she hasn’t seen me since…” She stops suddenly, her hand on the doorknob. They both know when the last time her mother saw her was.

There’s an awkward pause; this was a bad conversation to have. Things had been going better and suddenly there’s silence. He can actually hear the breath she takes, and then she turns around with a plastered on smile. “You take this room,” she says, holding the door open for him.

He walks inside and she hands him the keycard. “Thanks,” he mumbles, dropping it onto the dresser.

“I’m just gonna…” she gestures over her shoulder and he nods. “Do you need me…”

“Nah,” he says without looking at her. “We’ll start early tomorrow.”

She nods and it’s a few seconds before he hears the door click shut.

He stands there for a minute, staring at himself in the mirror but only seeing her in a hospital bed. He remembers how worried he was that he’d lose her, how grateful he was when he found out he didn’t. In a way, he thinks, he’s going through it all over again. 

He finally drags himself away from the mirror and checks the clock on his cell phone. It’s almost midnight, and he figures he might as well get some sleep before tomorrow, which is going to be a big day. He’s got to convince a man who wants out of politics to run for president and a woman who wants to move on to stay with him.

He strips off his suit and puddles around in his boxers and t-shirt, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He’s still thinking of Christmas, and it occurs to him that it’s Thursday, and if they get back to DC late Friday night and she leaves the next morning for Wisconsin, he won’t be able to get her a gift before she’s gone. He’s never done that before, given her gift to her after the holiday. That doesn’t seem right for some reason.

Last year, they spent Christmas together. She came over to his place early that morning and made a turkey with stuffing and green beans. He helped by making cranberry sauce, or at least opening the can and slurping it out onto a plate, and then CJ, Toby, and Carol had come over with pumpkin pie and wine. He and Toby spent most of the day making fun of them for their Christmas traditions but still ate more than everyone else, and at one point that evening, when he was loading his dishwasher and Donna was wrapping up leftovers, he’d had to actually remind himself that she’d be going home that night instead of to bed with him.

He walks out of the bathroom and yanks back the covers on his bed. He hasn’t given any thought to how he’ll spend Christmas. It’s not a holiday to him, so he doesn’t really care all that much, but the President usually makes them all take the day off and nothing’s ever open, so he’s got to make some sort of plans or he’s just a loser with no friends like he was two years ago when Donna was at the Washington Inn.

He thinks for a minute that he should just let her go to Wisconsin and not say anything. She could use the break and he’s sure her family would love to see her. But he finds himself walking out of his door and to hers anyway. When he knocks and she answers, her face is scrubbed clean and she’s wearing a t-shirt and boxers. He winces a little bit, wondering what gomer she got them from, but puts it quickly out of his mind.

“Do you need something?” she asks, not at all surprised to see him.

“If you decide not to go, we could do something,” he says, already mid-conversation in his head.

“What?” she asks, staring at him in confusion. 

“To Wisconsin,” he clarifies, walking past her into the room without invitation. “If you don’t go, we could do something. Some movie theaters are open and we could make dinner and I don’t know… watch football.”

She’s still holding the door open, but she lets go of it and turns towards him. “Oh…”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he hastily adds. “I just… if you don’t want to fly… for two days…” He tries to act casual and hopes he’s making more sense out loud than he thinks he is. “We could… I don’t know. I had fun last year.”

She walks up to him. “I think Toby’s spending the day with Andi and the twins, and Carol and Ginger are both going out of town. I don’t know about CJ…”

“Yeah, well…” he says, looking away. “It was just a thought. You probably want to…” he stops, catching a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and staring at it. Standing close to each other in front of the bed in their pajamas. This is what families look like, he thinks.

“We’d have to get a fresh bird.”

His eyes squint and he looks at her. “What?”

“We couldn’t thaw a frozen bird out in time. We could get Cornish game hens maybe, if it’s just going to be the two of us.”

He nods distractedly and looks back at the mirror, enthralled by the site of them.

“And no football. Basketball maybe, if there’s a good game on. What are you…” She turns her face and they’re both looking at the mirror. “What are you looking at?”

He’s quiet for a second. “Us,” he says softly. “Look at us.”

“What about us?” she asks, and he wishes she didn’t have to. That she could see what he sees.

He doesn’t answer, just reaches out and lightly trails a few fingers down her arm to her hand, hooking his middle finger around her index finger. She doesn’t say anything and he wonders if she can see it now.

He moves his gaze up in the mirror; she’s biting her lower lip and staring intently at their hands. He moves his thumb slowly, letting it graze back and forth over the hand he’s holding, and she slowly lifts her eyes until they meet his in the mirror. 

He’s been tempted to kiss her before. There’s a list a mile long in his mind of times he almost did; dancing at the first inauguration, outside her apartment the night of the second, their second Christmas together, when she woke up in Gaza, when she woke up in Gaza again, at a state dinner when she told him that women can get out of hand, their second anniversary… but he never expected that the time he wouldn’t be able to stop himself would be while they’re both wearing pajamas in a Comfort Inn in Houston.

He kisses the very corner of her mouth first. They’re facing the mirror instead of each other, so it’s an awkward angle. He keeps his eyes open and locked with hers, which get larger and larger as he leans in. But even the corner of her mouth is soft and warm and amazing. When he pulls slightly back, she turns her head with a questioning gaze, but he doesn’t give her a chance to voice the question before leaning in and kissing her again.

This time he closes his eyes so his entire focus can be on her lips. Her bottom lip naturally sticks out a little farther than her top, he notices, which makes it perfect to graze with his teeth. He touches the tip of his tongue to it next and she sighs and brings a hand up to his shoulder. His own hand comes up to her face, cupping her cheek and chin and feeling for the first time just how smooth and soft her skin is, but his other hand remains locked with hers between them.

When she tilts her head and slips her tongue into his mouth, he groans desperately. This has been too long coming and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he’s never done this before. The hand on his shoulder slips up around his neck and into his hair, and her fingernails scratch at his scalp the slightest bit. 

When they come up for air, she pulls back and looks at him with wide eyes. Her tongue snakes out of her mouth a licks away the moisture left on her lips and suddenly he can’t look away. His middle finger is still wrapped around her index finger and he can hear his own breathing and all he can think about is doing that again. And again and again and again.

She glances down at the dresser they’re still in front of, and then back up at him. He smiles a little at her, the smile that usually gets him out of trouble, and she smiles back while rolling her eyes slightly. Then she leans in and kisses him again. 

Five seconds later she’s trapped between him and the dresser. 

A minute later they’re both missing their shirts.

An hour later, he’s asleep, wrapped around her naked body.


	5. Two Weeks

He knows she’s awake; according to his calculations she has been for at least ten minutes. Her back is against his chest and their legs are tangled and he felt the very second she woke up, because her entire body stiffened against his. He kissed her shoulder, but she moaned and tried to relax her body, and she’s been pretending to sleep ever since.

He wonders if he should get up or at least remove his right hand from the underside of her breast. Maybe that would make her more comfortable. Or maybe it would make her think that he’s gotten what he’s wanted and is moving on with the day. He doesn’t know much about this sort of thing; Amy and Mandy weren’t cuddlers and other than the two of them, he’d be hard-pressed to remember the sleeping habits of any of the other women he’s been with.

He settles for moving his hand down her stomach a little bit and moving his thumb back and forth gently over her oh so soft skin. He always knew it would be soft; there’s something about the paleness of it that has always seemed so fragile. But he had no idea just how soft. She’s like those old oil paintings he studied in Art History; the ones where the woman was pale and willowy and naked except for the white sheet draped over her lap. Except that those women were rounder where Donna is thin and curvy in the sexiest way imaginable.

It takes a minute, but he does feel her body relax more. He kisses her shoulder again and smiles against it when she sighs. He takes his other hand out from underneath his pillow and carefully sweeps her hair away from his neck, then kisses her there and behind her ear; her body relaxes even more.

He doesn’t want this to turn into sex. It’s a thought he can barely comprehend having, but instead of continuing with the kissing, he tightens his grip on her and buries his face into her neck, inhaling the scent of her mixed with him. “Morning,” he mumbles.

She hesitates for just a second before replying in kind.

“Hungry,” he asks quietly.

She shakes her head. “No…”

She trails off, uncertainty still lacing her voice. He backs off her a little bit. “What?” 

She turns her head and looks at him, then over at the bathroom. “I need to…”

He finally gets it and smiles. She tries to smile back, but it’s still unsure, so when she sits up he leans over and kisses her. She startles, but after a moment of his persistence, tilts her head and kisses him back, letting go of the sheet she was holding against her chest and letting it pool around her waist.

When they part a moment later, he kisses her eyelids and whispers good morning to her again. She smiles brighter then and kisses him chastely before getting out of bed and walking naked into the bathroom.

Once the door’s closed behind her, he sits up against the headboard and reaches for the television remote on the nightstand. He finds CNN rather easily and alternates between watching it and the door she just went through. He’s amazed at how easy this feels to him; how right. As if waking up next to her was an every day occurrence. He’s still not sure why last night was the night he changed things, but he’s unwilling to question it now. He wants this, has wanted it for longer than he probably knows, and at this point he’s just glad he has it. 

When she comes out of the restroom, she grabs his t-shirt off the floor and slips into it, then starts digging around her small suitcase for clothing. “What time are we going to the Congressman’s?”

He watches as she pulls out a pair of white lacy underwear, then an equally lacy bra. It’s distracting, but he pushes the sight out of his mind and turns off the television. “About that…” She turns around and looks at him and he pats the bed. “Come sit with me,” he says with a smile. 

“I was gonna shower.”

He smirks. “You weren’t going to model the lingerie for me?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “In your dreams.”

“Many of them, yes.” He gets serious again. “Come sit with me.”

She squints her eyes a bit, then puts down the bra and underwear and walks to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and facing him.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask the Congressman to run for the Senate.” The hurt in her eyes is sudden and immediate, and she looks down at the bed and fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. “It was a good idea, Donna…”

“Don’t,” she says, cutting him off. She looks back up at him. “You don’t have to placate me; it’s your decision.”

He reaches over and takes her hand. Hers is stiff in his, but she doesn’t pull away. “It was a good idea,” he repeats more adamantly. “It’s what I’d recommend to him if I didn’t need him for more.”

She’s quiet for a second, then takes her hand from his and starts to stand. “I need to shower; then I’ll change the proposal from Senate issues to House issues,” she says, suddenly very professional. She walks back to her suitcase and picks up the bra and underwear, as well as a shirt. “Although… he probably doesn’t need a plan for that. He’s done it twice.”

“I don’t want him to run for the House either,” he says, standing up and searching around for his boxers. He slips them on quickly and walks up to her. “I want him to run for President and I want the two of us to run his campaign.”

She stills, then snaps her head in his direction. “What?”

“You were right,” he says with a smile. He’s excited now and can barely keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet. “He’s ready for more. Let’s make him the President.”

Her eyes widen and she stares at him before looking down at her wringing hands. The silence drags on for several seconds before she speaks. “Josh, I accepted a position…”

“Unaccept it,” he says shrugging. “Tell Will you found a better candidate. The right candidate.” 

“I can’t just….” She stops and looks at him again. “You know Will offered me a job?”

He half smirks. Of course he knows. “Yes.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know Will offered me a job?” she asks in an angrier voice.

“Yes,” he says again.

“How long have you known?”

“It doesn’t…”

“How long?” she asks through gritted teeth.

He pauses a beat. “Since Tuesday. He came to me. I was in the mess, and…”

“And you…” she turns and takes a few steps and then turns and looks at him again. “You came up and told me to research the three of them.”

There’s no use lying about it. She knows him and she knows how he works; he’s not surprised that she’s putting it together. “Yes.”

“So that wasn’t for your benefit. It was for mine.”

He holds up a hand. “Not completely.” 

She turns and walks to the other side of the room while talking. “I can’t believe this. You knew I was going to work for the Vice-President, so you had me prove to myself that he…” she stops talking and walking at the same time.

“Shouldn’t be President, yes,” he says unapologetically. “Russell can’t beat Vinick. Russell shouldn’t beat Vinick.” 

She turns around and looks at him. “He can,” she denies. “He just needs…”

“I’ve worked for the wrong guy, Donna. Trust me on this.”

“You mean follow you on this,” she spits out. “You mean continue to be your lap dog while you...” 

“I’m not asking you to be my assistant. I’m asking you to do this with me.”

“No, you’re telling me to.” 

“No, I’m…”

“Yes you are,” she yells, cutting him off. “The job I’ve chosen isn’t good enough for you…”

“The job you’ve chosen isn’t good enough for you,” he argues back, his voice raising for the first time.

“That’s not your decision to make!”

“Donna!” he shouts, his arms flying out to his sides. “I’m offering you something better; something you can believe in.”

She spins around and walks away again, pacing in front of the restroom. “I should’ve known you’d try to keep me from leaving.”

He puts his hands on his hips defiantly. “You did know. That’s why you didn’t tell me about Will’s offer.”

She spins to face him and starts to argue, but stops before anything comes out. Slowly, she looks over at the bed. He watches as she stares at it, and wonders if she’s thinking the same thing he is; that ten minutes ago the world was perfect and now they’re screaming at each other. He takes a deep breath and looks around the room. He’s standing there in his boxer shorts while she stands ten feet from him in his t-shirt. This isn’t how this morning was supposed to go.

“Donna…” he says quietly, walking up to her.

“What would you do to get me to stay?” she asks in a monotone, almost dead sounding voice without looking up from the bed.

He shrugs. “Whatever I have to, I guess.”

She turns her head slowly, looking at him, and for the first time he can see tears pooling in her eyes. No, not at all the way this morning was supposed to go. “Including sleeping with me?” 

He’s confused for a second, and is sure his face shows it. “No,” he says adamantly when he figures out what she’s getting at. “That’s not…”

“It’s not?” she asks with a harsh laugh. “Not even a little?”

“No! How you could you think that?”

She throws her hands up into the air. “I don’t know, Josh, let’s see. You spent eight years doing nothing. Nothing, Josh! I resign and suddenly…”

“There’s nothing sudden about this and you damn-well know it,” he says, pissed off now. 

She lifts her hands to her face, covering it completely. “I don’t know anything,” she mumbles into her hands.

“You know me,” he spits out. “And you know I’d never do that to you. How could you...” He stops and shakes his head. He can’t be around her right now. He turns and grabs his keycard off the dresser, then walks to the door. When he opens it, he looks back at her and sees her shoulders shaking.

“You can be mad at me, Donna. You can be mad that I didn’t tell you I was considering asking Santos to run. You can be mad that I didn’t tell you I knew about the job offer. Hell, you can even be mad that I assumed you’d choose to work for someone who should be President over someone who shouldn’t. But you can’t be mad about last night. You’re not allowed to be mad about that.”

He hears her crying just as the door closes behind him.


	6. Two Weeks

He sits bent over on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair. He’s been back in his room for five minute and has almost called her twice. She was crying when he left, and he hates that, but he can’t get over what she accused him of, what her words turned last night into, and so each time he picks up the phone on the nightstand, he puts it back down without dialing her room.

He sighs and lies back on the bed, his legs still dangling over the side. Twenty minutes earlier he had it all figured out and now he’s more confused than ever before. She’s still planning on working for Will, which is something he can’t even begin to fathom, and that means he’s not only going to be getting Santos elected without her, but he’s going to be working against her. How is he supposed to do that?

Is he supposed to forget that last night happened? Push it to the back of his mind and go on as though their relationship is nothing more than a severed business one? Is he supposed to see her on the campaign trail and not want to touch her, to hold her, to be with her in every way he was last night? 

Or is he supposed to fight for her, pretend she didn’t accuse him of using her body and emotions for political gain, tell her to take the job but to be with him anyway? And would she even want that? 

He stares up at the ceiling. Maybe he should go back to the White House and forget all about Santos. Or take Donna’s suggestion and convince him to run for the Senate. But how can he do that and let Vinick take over the White House? How can he let someone undo what they’ve all spent seven years doing? He almost died for this administration, for fuck’s sake, and so did she. How is he supposed to let someone destroy what they’ve done?

He sits up again and stares at the phone on the nightstand. He needs to call her, needs to apologize for just walking out on her. He doesn’t know much about this sort of thing, but he knows you don’t walk out when she’s crying. That can’t be the right answer. But when he picks up the phone, her words come back again and he can’t make himself dial. 

He eventually stands up and walks to the dresser where his cell phone and laptop are. He’s going to have to change the proposal for Congressman Santos, but first he has to check in at work. He calls CJ and Toby, who are flying back from China, then calls Annabeth and Charlie in the office. As he suspected, he’s not needed there today. The main focus is on the President’s health and the deal in China that was reached yesterday. It reminds him that this is the time to leave.

He calls Janice last and gets his messages from her. While half-listening, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the dresser. It’s a far different picture than the one looking back at him last night. In Donna’s mirror he saw a family; this morning he sees an aging, lonely man. When he’s done talking to Janice, he stands there watching himself for a minute, then shakes his head and hits his speed dial. 

It rings three times and he can picture her staring at the caller id and debating whether or not to answer. But she finally does, or at least hits send, because although she doesn’t say anything, he can hear her breathing on the other end. And because he has no idea what to say to her, he does the same thing and they sit there in silence.

He walks back over to the bed and sits down, mimicking his earlier actions of leaning over with his elbows on his knees. He can hear her take a deep breath and exhale slowly, and it relaxes him slightly. At least a minute passes without either saying a word and he can’t help but thinking that on some level it’s nice; comforting. 

But he knows that eventually she’ll hang up. He called her and hasn’t even said hello. So he runs his free hand over his face and talks quietly. “Are you ok?” he asks because it’s her, and because when it comes right down to it, that’s the most important thing.

She doesn’t answer right away and he wonders if it’s because she’s surprised that he finally said something, if she’s angry and waiting for an apology, or if she doesn’t know how to answer the question. “Yes,” she finally whispers. “Are you?”

No. “Yeah.”

The silence returns and he feels like there’s an ocean between them instead of a thin, peach painted wall.

“Ok,” he breathes out after another minute goes by. He doesn’t know what else to say to her and since they both just lied, he thinks it’s best to just hang up. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Are you still… I mean, when are you…”

He closes his eyes and drops his head. She’s thinking the same thing he is, he knows it. He’s about to go against her, put his career before her yet again. “I have to, Donna.”

“Yeah,” she says in a resigned voice before speaking louder. “I’m going to Madison.”

Her words surprise him and he stands. He takes a few steps, then turns and walks back to the bed. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to that. Is he supposed to ask her to stay or let her go? There must be a right answer, but he doesn’t know what it is. “When…”

“There’s an eleven a.m. from Hobby. I already changed my ticket.”

“Oh.” But they should talk; they need to talk.

“So… I guess I’ll…”

“You’ll be in the office on Tuesday?” he asks suddenly.

She pauses and he can hear her sigh. “I don’t know.”

Her answer doesn’t surprise him; it’s why he asked the question. But he can suddenly see a scenario in which they avoid each other until they’re barely speaking and finally break ties altogether. And while he’s hurt and angry right now, he doesn’t want to face a life without her in it in some way.

He hears her room phone ringing both through the wall and through her cell. “That’s my cab,” she says quietly. “I have to go.”

“Yeah,” he says, then takes a quick breath. “Have a good Christmas.” He cringes at how impersonal he sounds, as if he’s talking to a stranger instead of the woman whose body he worshipped just hours earlier. 

“Thanks.”

He keeps the phone gripped to his ear after she hangs up, dropping it onto the bed only when he hears her muffled voice through the wall as she answers the other phone. It doesn’t make any sense; personally, professionally, none of it. He feels like there’s something he’s missing and it frustrates him that he can’t put his finger on what exactly that is.

He’s still standing in the same spot a minute later when he hears a door close. It’s her, he knows, and without thinking of his actions or the consequences they’ll bring, he jogs to the door and throws it open just as she sets his t-shirt down in front of it. 

She stands up and their eyes lock. She looks completely put together with her combed hair and business attire and he thinks he must look like a schmuck, still in nothing but his boxers almost an hour later.

“I was…” she gestures down to the shirt on the floor, then reaches down and picks it up. “Here.” She holds it out to him and he takes it from her without looking away from her gorgeous blue eyes. Even mad, he can’t deny wanting her. It’s not surprising in and of itself, except that it’s not a primal angry fuck he desires. It’s something slow and soft and tender; he wants her to heal the wounds she inflicted.

But he can’t explain something to her that he doesn’t really understand, and so for the second time that morning he doesn’t say anything at all. She looks at him expectantly for a moment, then turns and starts down the hallway.

Her movement propels him into action and he turns back and grabs his keycard, then follows her down the hallway while slipping on his t-shirt. It smells like her and he groans. 

“You’re making a mistake,” he says when he’s almost caught up with her. He doesn’t know where it came from, but he knows it’s the truth. “You said you weren’t quitting because of me, but now you’re turning this down because you’re mad at me.”

She shakes her head but keeps walking. “Your ego knows no bounds, you know that?”

“So does your stubbornness. If anyone else had brought this to you, you’d have taken it in a second.”

She stops at the elevator and harshly hits the button. “That’s not…”

“Yes it is,” he cuts in. 

She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the closed elevator doors, saying nothing.

“Donna, I’m as pissed off at you as you are at me.” Her head snaps in his direction, her eyes wide as if he’s just said something preposterous, but he ignores it and continues. “You’re still the one I want to do this with.”

She pauses for just a second and it’s the most hope he’s had in an hour. “You don’t even know if he’ll do it,” she scoffs. 

He steps closer to her. “So come with me and find out,” he says softly.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No. I can’t,” she says louder. “I can’t try to convince one guy to run for President and then work on the other guy’s campaign.”

“If he won’t run, no one will know we asked him to. If he does run...” he trails off as she shakes her head. “You don’t have to commit to anything, Donna. Just come and meet him.”

The elevator door opens and she looks inside. “I have a flight in an hour and a half.”

“So fly out later.”

She shakes her head and steps inside the elevator. The door starts to close and he holds it open with his hand as he stares at her hard. “Let go,” she says.

“Why won’t you at least consider this?” he almost shouts. They’re not making a scene, but they’re not far from it, and he thinks again that this isn’t the way this morning was supposed to go.

“Let go,” she says again, angrier this time. 

He stares at her in a game of wills. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but other than taking her by the shoulders and shaking her until she’s thinking again, he’s out of options. He keeps looking at her face, stubborn and hard and not at all like the woman he held last night. He shakes his head and grimaces; he’s been angry and exasperated down-right pissed at her before, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been disappointed in her until now. “You’re going to regret this,” he says softly, leaning in towards her as far as he can from outside the elevator. “Not at first, because it’s going to be new and exciting and you’re going to be too busy to think about it. But he’ll do something or not do something or compromise something, and then he’ll do it again and then again, and you’ll look at him one day and wonder what the hell your doing trying to push him off on the country.” 

He lets go, watching as the door closes between them. Watching as it opens again.


	7. Two Weeks

He can describe the opening of the elevator door as nothing other than relief; complete and total relief. It’s short-lived, however, when he looks at her face and sees the anger there. He might have gone a step too far, he knows, but he was grasping at straws.

“Don’t you talk to me like that,” she says in a forceful yet quiet voice as she exits the elevator and walks down the hallway towards their rooms. “You worked your way up the ladder by working for Hoynes, for Peterson, for Sheffield. They might not be as stupid as Russell is, but they’re three times as dirty.”

His eyes widen and he stands there for a second before jogging down the hallway after her. “Which is why I’m telling you this. I’m speaking from experience.”

“You act as though you wouldn’t even consider working for someone for your own gain,” she scoffs. “Those are pretty lofty morals coming from someone who’s already made it and got there by doing just that.” She stops in front of his room and stares at the door.

She’s right and he knows it. But she’s also wrong. It’s pretty easy for him to tell her not to make the mistakes he made, but Leo came to him in spite of those mistakes, not because of them. “That’s not…”

“Are you going to open the door?” she snaps.

He raises his eyebrows and wonders if they’re going inside just so her rant can increase in volume. He steps between her and the door and slips the keycard into the slot, but the red light flashes. He curses under his breath and tries again just as Donna huffs and snatches it from his hand, then lets them into the room.

He tries to take her suitcase for her, but she grabs that as well and walks in before him, letting the door close in his face. He pushes it open and walks in behind her, where she’s already talking again, louder this time as he predicted.

“I can’t believe you would question my morality!” she says through gritted teeth as she tosses the keycard on the dresser and grabs his laptop. He wonders for a moment if she’s going to throw it across the room, but she puts in down on the table in the corner and turns it on, then turns back to him while it boots up. “And who the hell are you to say Russell shouldn’t be President? That’s not for you to decide or have you forgotten that along the way?”

“No,” he replies snidely. “I haven’t forgotten that along the way. But you and I both know he’s no President.”

“Well if he’s going to be, someone’s got to step up and make him a decent one instead of trying to make a three-term Congressman no one’s ever heard of the savior of the party.”

“I’d rather fail with the right guy than succeed with the wrong one!” he shouts back at her.

“You have that luxury, Josh! You’ve succeeded enough to not be a joke if this blows up in your face! I haven’t!” She paces for a second and then sits at the small table and starts clicking around on the computer. “And by the way,” she says quieter without looking up. “Neither has Matt Santos.” 

“I don’t intend to have this blow up in my face or the Congressman’s.” 

She ignores him and keeps talking and clicking the mouse. “And what happens when Russell’s elected and you aren’t there to make sure he doesn’t screw it up?” 

He throws his hands up in the air. “I can’t be the President for him, Donna!”

She shakes her head and starts typing. “Leo’s made plenty of decisions for President Bartlet. What changes do you want to make to number one?”

“It’s not the…” He stops and stares at her. “What?”

“Number one; education,” she says impatiently. “What changes?”

She stands up and walks to her suitcase, pulling out a folder. When he gets a look at it, he sees that it’s the report she made for him on Santos’ voting record. She’s talking about the proposal? Now, while she’s telling him all the reasons she’s going to work for Russell? “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“We can’t go to him with a proposal about running for Senate. If he’s half as intelligent as you think he is, he’ll choose that over this in a heartbeat.”

“You’re…” She said we. ‘We can’t go to him.’ He feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth even though he still has no idea what the hell’s going on. “Education’s fine as is,” he says, walking to the desk and standing over her shoulder as she sits back down. “So are healthcare and his military background. Go down to marketing.”

They spend the next hour revising the proposal and doing nothing else. They don’t talk about anything else; not Russell, not their fight, not last night, and he’s not even positive that she’s planning on going to the Congressman’s with him. But midway through, she calls the airlines and changes her flight to one leaving at 3:30. She puts the hundred dollar fee on his credit card.

When they’re done, she burns it to a disc, says she’s going to have the front desk print it out, and tells him to shower and meet her in the lobby in twenty minutes. He wants to ask her what all of this means, but he isn’t about to tempt fate at this point, so he nods and does as he’s told.

********** 

The first good thing about meeting with Matt Santos is that he doesn’t throw them out of his house even though his wife is obviously less than pleased to have them there. After a few minutes of awkwardness, she takes the kids last minute Christmas shopping and leaves them alone. Once it’s just the three of them, he tells them that he isn’t running for Congress. That’s when they blindside him.

For the first ten minutes after they tell him what they want him to do, his only question is ‘what?’ For ten minutes after that, his only answer is ‘no.’ It’s Donna who finally convinces him to just look at their proposal by showing him, of all things, the voting record reports she’d made earlier in the week. Josh watches silently as she explains them in layman’s terms, unapologetically points out the Congressman’s weaknesses, and even asks him about the two bills he switched his votes on. His answer that the bills changed drastically to something he could support seems to impress her or at least mollify her.

Like Josh and Donna, the Congressman is less than impressed with Bingo Bob’s voting record, and although he has a lot of respect for Arnold Vinick, he’s got kids and Vinick isn’t about education. He gets a little ahead of himself and tells them what he envisions for education. Donna was right; it’s way out there in left field, but as his excitement grows and his voice becomes animated, Josh sneaks a look at Donna to see her enthralled. 

When they finish going over the voting records, the Congressman turns to Josh. “Who’s your second choice?” Josh stares at him a second and Santos smiles. “Oh,” he chuckles. “I was your second choice. Who was your first?”

Josh shakes his head and looks over at Donna. She smiles uneasily and looks away. “You’re our only choice, Congressman.” He’s careful to say ‘our’ even though he still has no idea what the hell’s going on with Donna. She refused to say a single thing to him of any importance in the cab on the way there, choosing instead to review the proposal again, but he doesn’t want the Congressman to know all that. If Santos is going to believe he has a chance, he’s got to think they believe he has a chance.

“If I’m your first choice, why are you coming to me two days before Christmas when there’s less than a month to declare?”

Josh almost smiles; this guy’s no idiot. “We didn’t start looking until Baker dropped out.” 

Santos seems to think about that for a second. “So Baker was your first choice.”

“No,” Donna says, jumping in. “We’d simply given little thought to the next election before the Governor dropped out, leaving the remaining candidates…”

“Unacceptable,” Josh finishes for her.

“Less than ideal,” she says with a glance Josh’s way.

The Congressman accepts this and they spend the next hour pouring over the now nine-point plan. He either doesn’t know that Donna is Josh’s assistant or doesn’t care, because he weighs her thoughts as heavily as he does Josh’s. And like the Congressman, Donna can’t help getting caught up in the excitement of it all.

When they finally leave the Congressman’s house almost two hours after they arrive, the best they’ve gotten out of him is that he’ll discuss it with his wife. Josh gives him both of their cell phone numbers, but the Congressman just shakes his head and laughs, telling Josh not to expect his call until after Christmas.

When they get into a cab to go back to their hotel, Josh starts rambling about things they need to do. It’s avoidance in its simplest form, but he doesn’t know what she’s thinking and that’s a new thing for him. And if she’s still thinking the unthinkable, maybe his planning will propel her into action and have her working with him before she even notices. 

But Donna’s having none of it and isn’t propelled into any sort of action save glaring at him. It appears as if she left the friendly, professional woman at the Congressman’s house, and when she rebukes him for the third time, he gets angry and stares out his window.

“I don’t know what it is you want from me,” he spits out ten minutes into the drive.

“I want you to let me make my own decisions.”

A strange sound of disbelief and exasperation comes from his mouth and he looks back over at her. “I am…”

“You’re not,” she snaps, cutting him off. “You’re trying to manipulate me into doing what you want me to do by trying to convince me that it’s what I want to do.”

“It is what you want to do!” he shrieks. “You’re just so damn pissed off at me that you won’t admit it to yourself!”

Donna turns her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not discussing this in front of people,” she says while looking at the driver. He groans and runs his hand over his face before looking back out the window on his side. 

Neither says another word until they’ve arrived at the hotel and stepped out of the cab, but then she goes on as if they they’d never paused. “What I want to do is make a name for myself in politics without having to justify myself to you,” she mumbles as they walk through the lobby of the hotel and towards the elevators. “What I want is to not be your go to girl.”

“My go to girl?” he asks indignantly.

She punches the button for the elevator and the doors open immediately. They walk inside and she hits 3 and waits until they close before talking again. “Yes, your go to girl. If I join Santos’ campaign, how long before I’m picking up your lunch and acting as your date at fundraisers.”

“Why the hell does it have to be an act?” he yells before realizing what he’s said. Shit. He didn’t mean for that to come out. He visibly cringes and hangs his head. “Fuck,” he breathes out. 

She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then she turns to him accusingly. “Why did you sleep with me when you knew you were lying to me?”

His eyes widen and he looks over at her. They’re discussing this? In an elevator? Now? “I…” What the hell’s he supposed to say to that? “I could ask you the same question!”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“You didn’t tell me about the job with Russell,” he accuses right back.

“But that didn’t have anything to do with it,” she says, shaking her head.

He looks up at the ceiling and throws his hands in the air. “Neither did Santos!” 

“Right,” she mumbles under her breath as she turns to face the doors again.

He takes a deep breath and looks at her again. “I didn’t sleep with you to get you to work for Santos, and it’s disgusting that you think I would.”

She turns her whole body back to him. “So if you knew I’d taken a job with the Vice-President, you still would’ve slept with me last night?” she asks skeptically.

‘No’ pops into his thoughts before he can stop it and it surprises him, because until she’d asked, he never would’ve guessed that to be his answer.

“That’s what I thought,” she says when he doesn’t answer her.

The elevator dings and she walks out of it and turns down the hallway. He stands where he is until the door starts to shut again, then pulls himself back to reality and follows her. Neither says anything until they reach his room and he’s searching his pockets for the keycard. “You once dropped everything to drive across the country and work for the right guy. That’s who I wanted to sleep with; what happened to her?”

“I didn’t drop everything. I ran away from an abusive relationship; my options were limited. And you want to know what happened to her? She went to work in politics.” 

His head snaps up and he can feel the edges of the keycard digging into his hand as he grips it tightly enough to leave marks in his skin. “Abu…” All the air rushes out of his lungs and he can’t finish the word. He sucks in a long breath and tries to push back the rage coursing through him. He’s hated before, he has, but there’s only been one other time he’s wanted people to die, and that was when they blew up the SUV she was in. “He…”

She quickly shakes her head back and forth. “Mentally abusive.”

He stares her right in the eye and looks for anything that might tell him she’s lying. He doesn’t see it, but she’s good at hiding her emotions. He thinks he might throw up; his breathing is labored, his stomach is queasy, and he’s lightheaded. He takes a step closer to her. “Donna…” he says in a voice he barely recognizes.

“Josh,” she says softly while slightly shaking her head. “You make it very hard to stay mad at you.”

“Tell me,” he says, his eyes boring into her. “Did… did he…” he can’t finish the thought. He can’t even have the thought.

“Never,” she says in a solid voice. “I swear.” One side of her mouth quirks up. “He just took my life’s savings.”

He knows what she’s doing; he’s seen that look from her more times than he cares to count. Putting him at ease comes second nature to her, even when she is angry with him. She reaches down and gently takes the keycard from him, then turns and opens the door. He’s frozen there in the hallway, not moving even as she walks inside and turns back to him. “Josh.”

He nods slightly and stumbles into the room, collapsing onto the bed and burying his face in his hands. He hopes she’s telling the truth, and he’s going to have to believe that she is, otherwise he’s going to do something that’s going to land him in prison. 

The bed dips down next to him and her hand goes to his shoulder. “Josh, I know to you this decision is black and white, but I’m seeing shades of grey.”

He doesn’t say anything; he has nothing to say. She’s still talking about the campaign, but the only thing he can think about is that man’s hands on her, hurting her.

She sits next to him for a few minutes. Neither of them says anything and if he was’t going through his own version of hell, he’d say it was the nicest moment they’ve had today. She doesn’t seem to be angry anymore, at least. He’s not completely sure why that is, but it’s one less thing he has to deal with.

He finally sits up and faces her. She’s smiling softly at him and shaking her head slightly back and forth. It helps, her face almost always does, and he finds it easier to breathe. She puts her hand on his cheek for a minute, then removes it and stands up.

“I have to go,” she says with a smile almost as if she’s talking to a child. His eyes widen and he starts to say something, but she shakes her head. “My flight’s at three. But I’m going to think about it.”

He pauses for several seconds before nodding. She smiles wider and ruffles a hand through his hair, then calls the front desk for a cab and goes over to her suitcase.

“Your flight’s at seven. Eat something before then.” He nods again and watches as she moves about the room. She’s leaving and there’s nothing he can do about it. “I’ll call you on Sunday.”

She looks at him for a few more second, then starts to leave, walking past him towards the door.

“Wait,” he says quietly, reaching out and taking her arm into his hand. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say here; he doesn’t even know that he has the voice to say it. His emotions have been all over the place today, but he can add fear to them now. This feels like goodbye, like he’s losing her, and all he wants to do is hold on and never let her go.

She lets him pull her back to him. “My cab…”

“Just…” He trails off and slides his hand down her arm to her wrist. She’s so damn soft, how is he supposed to let that go?

She looks down at his hand and then back at him before closing her eyes. They stay that way for several seconds, and then he leans forward and rests his forehead against her stomach. 

He drops her wrist and wraps his arms around her, holding her close to him. Her scent invades his senses and he can almost taste her lips again. He can feel her put a hand into his hair again and she leans down and kisses the top of his head.

“I have to go,” she whispers after several long moments.

“Don’t,” he mumbles into her shirt.

She pulls back, still close enough to smell, but their only connection now is his hands around her waist and her hand in his hair. “I have to go. I have to think.”

“I need you.”

She smiles sadly and he thinks he sees a tear in her eye. “See, you say that, but I don’t know if you mean professionally or personally.”

He pulls her closer again, resting his chin on her stomach and looking up at her. “I just mean that I need you.” 

Her smile changes a little bit and she bends down and kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you Tuesday,” she whispers. He closes his eyes as she untangles herself from him, but opens them again and watches her walk to the door. She turns back and smiles at him once more, then quietly leaves.


	8. Two Weeks

The office is quiet on Saturday; too quiet. Senior staff is there, but it’s Christmas Eve and most of the assistants have taken off, which leaves him with little to do and too much time to think. And that’s what he does; running their situation around his mind over and over until he feels like his head is going to explode.

He doesn’t know what to do if the Congressman won’t run. He doesn’t have any one else in mind, save Leo, who wouldn’t do it, and even if he could think of someone else, there wouldn’t be time to put it together. There’s barely enough time with Santos. So if he doesn’t run, Donna’s definitely gone. It’s a thought he can barely stomach.

Unfortunately, it’s not the worst case scenario, and he’s going to have to come to grips with that. The Congressman might decide to run and Donna might still decide to work for Russell. He’s still having problems wrapping his mind around that; around them working against each other for months. He doesn’t know how that would work, especially with this new dimension to their relationship. Staying away from her would be impossible, but being with her and pretending he’s ok with her decision to work for Russell might be just as impossible. 

And then there’s what she said at the hotel; he’s been kicking that around for the last twenty-four hours. What did she mean when she questioned his need for her? He doesn’t understand that; doesn’t understand why it isn’t ok to need her both personally and professionally. He’s always needed her that way, even when the personal was just friendship. Why is it suddenly a sin to need her in every way imaginable? 

But there’s also what he said at the hotel. Why wouldn’t he have slept with her had he known she’d accepted the position with Russell? He still can’t believe that had been his gut reaction, and it makes him wonder if that means part of him wants to see her as the innocent, wide-eyed, idealistic girl he met years ago. She told him she’s not that girl anymore, and the truth is that if he’s taught her all she knows, then he’s a large part of the reason she’s isn’t, so to hold it against her now would be unfair. 

Was he wrong? Was sleeping with her his last ditch effort to get her to stay with him? Or was it that he thought she might leave him, and he couldn’t let her go without showing her what she meant to him? He tosses that around all day, but he doesn’t really think it’s either of those. He thinks more than anything that he never expected her to say no, and so in his mind they’d already left the White House and were running Santos’ campaign. And in his mind, when they’re running that campaign, they’re partners in every sense of the word.

But now he’s worried that he’s screwed up. That he took that huge next step at the worst possible time and ruined any chance at the relationship they’re destined to have. And of all the thoughts that run through his mind on Saturday, that’s the one that scares him the most.

By seven o’clock, he’s accomplished nothing except reading the latest draft of next year’s budget and confusing himself. So when Toby comes into his office and asks if he wants to try to find an open restaurant, he says yes even though he’s not really hungry. It doesn’t take them long to realize that their only option is going to be Asian food of some sort, so they head into China Town and eat at a tiny restaurant that’s filthy but has fabulous food.

After they’ve eaten, when they’re picking through their leftover rice and talking about the fact that the President is so weak that he and Mrs. Bartlet have decided not to go to New Hampshire for Christmas, Josh’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and his heart breaks a little when he sees Donna’s name flash on the screen. He glances at Toby and then looks down and answers with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says softly herself. 

“How’s Madison?”

“It’s… good. It’s good.”

Her voice gives away the lie, but he plays along. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. How was work today?”

“Quiet.”

“Must’ve been. I called there first; you left early.”

“I wasn’t getting anything done without…” he stops and closes his eyes. “Without anyone there.” They both know he means without her there, but she doesn’t call him on it and even though he’s grateful for that, he hates that they’re tiptoeing around like this.

“Have you heard from the Congressman?” 

He looks up at Toby, then stands up and walks over towards the window where nobody’s sitting. “No.” He spent most of the day telling himself that it was ok, because the Congressman said he wouldn’t be calling until after Christmas, but he doesn’t really believe it. He thinks it’s a bad sign that Santos isn’t so excited about this that he can’t wait to get started. “Have you uhh… made any…”

“No.” 

“Oh. Ok.”

“There’s not really a decision to make unless he agrees to run.”

“Just because he might not run doesn’t mean you have…”

“Josh,” she says, cutting him off. “Don’t.”

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his shoes. “Ok.” 

Silence carries them for the next minute until she finally tells him she has to go.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Go to the store and buy some groceries. Nothing will be open tomorrow.”

He smiles sadly at her attempt to take care of him. He knows she resents doing it now, and wonders if she knows how second nature it is to her. He tells her goodbye and hangs up, then pockets his phone and walks back to the table where Toby’s eating the final bite of an egg roll that’s now been on the plate for an hour. 

“She having a good time?” Toby asks when he’s sitting down.

“Yeah.” Toby looks up at him as if he’s waiting for more and, “She quit,” slips out.

Toby’s eyes show mild surprise. “Just now?”

Josh shakes his head. “Monday. She gave me two weeks.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds while Toby balls up his napkin and puts it on the orange plastic tray holding his Styrofoam plate. “That would’ve happened a long time ago, you know. If it wasn’t for your…” he pauses as if he’s looking for just the right term. “…friendship.”

Josh nods; he does know that. “Yeah.”

“She have something lined up?”

“Will offered her a job in media targeting on Russell’s campaign.” He pauses and looks at his empty plate. “She hasn’t decided.”

“You sound disgusted.”

“Russell shouldn’t be President.”

“No,” Toby agrees. “But if she proves herself, she could move the DCCC when he loses.”

Josh looks up at him. “You aren’t that easy on Will.”

Toby shrugs. “Donna’s looking for something more to do. Will was enticed by promises of power.”

“They have the same end result,” Josh says snidely, standing up with his tray.

“No they don’t,” Toby says, standing as well. “Donna won’t turn into Russell. Will did.”

********** 

Sunday’s even quieter at the office. No one comes in on Christmas Day ever, not even him. But his house has no food and the games don’t start until noon, so when he fails at sleeping in, he throws on a pair of jeans and drives in. When he gets there, he can hear his own steps echoing in the hallway as he walks towards CJ’s office. She’s there, working hard to be the Chief of Staff she’ll never live up to. He watches her from the doorway for a few seconds before she looks up and sees him. She never smiles anymore; he can’t remember a single time since she took the position, and for just a second he’s pissed off at the President for putting her someplace she shouldn’t be and ruining that gorgeous smile and amazing sense of humor she used to have.

When she does see him, she looks almost relieved at the distraction. They talk about China and what’s going to be the President’s new schedule, but nothing’s happening and neither of them has any business being there. He finally leaves the office at one and stops at a gas station for a bag of BBQ potato chips and a frozen pizza. 

Donna calls a few minutes before six. He’s watching Tennessee beat the crap out of Michigan State, but he quickly hits mute and answers. “Merry Christmas,” he says, determined to keep things light. They can’t afford the awkwardness that so easily settles on them recently.

“Thanks. Are you watching football?”

“I am,” he says with a smile.

“Are you starving?”

“No,” he says with mock indignantly, trying to lull her into banter. “I’ve got a full-course turkey dinner here.”

“Really?” she asks skeptically.

He puts his feet up on the coffee table and leans back. “No, but I’ve got frozen Totinos.” 

She chuckles. “From the Shell on P Street?”

She knows him too well. “The Mapco in Dupont Circle I’ll have you know.”

The line goes quiet and he waits for her to say something, wondering what it is he’s done this time. When she doesn’t speak, he continues, unwilling to let the pauses linger. “They had two kinds; combination and pepperoni/sausage. I got combination, but it’s just pepperoni and sausage, so I don’t know what the difference is.”

She pauses again, but finally speaks in a near-whisper. “I’m sorry I left you alone for Christmas.”

“No,” he says shaking his head. It sucks, but he doesn’t want her to feel guilty. They do that to each other too much. “It’s good that you’re getting to see your family.”

There’s another pause before she answers unconvincingly. “Yeah.”

She sounded the same way when he asked about her trip last night. “What is it?” 

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he says. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“No. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he says, pushing. He knows he probably shouldn’t; this has been the easiest conversation they’ve had since Friday morning, but something’s wrong.

“It’s just…” she takes a deep breath. “My family hasn’t seen me since…” she stops and takes a long, deep breath. “They have questions.”

“They have questions,” he repeats, putting his feet back on the floor and sitting up.

“Yeah. What it was like, what I remember, how therapy was… questions.”

Idiots. He rakes his free hand through his hair. “Did you tell them to mind their own fucking business?”

“They’re my family,” she says firmly. “So no I didn’t.”

“Donna, you don’t have to…” he stands and paces around the room. “That’s not something you should have to talk about. I can’t believe they’d expect you to…”

“It’s fine, Josh.”

“It’s not fine!” he says louder than he means to. “You go there to relax and visit your parents and your family spends the weekend making you relive that?”

“That’s not what they’re trying to…”

“I don’t care what they’re trying to do!” he shouts.

“Josh. It’s fine. I don’t relive it the way…” she stops suddenly, but he knows what she was going to say. She doesn’t relive Gaza the way he used to relive Roslyn. He knows that, he’s thankful for it. But that doesn’t mean it’s ok. 

He leans back against the wall. “It’s not fine; it’s upsetting you.”

“Not as much as it’s upsetting you.”

There’s a reason for that and he wonders if she knows it. “Can’t you just tell them you don’t want to talk about it?” he asks quieter.

“It’s not that easy.”

“You could come home.”

“I am, tomorrow.”

“Come home tonight. Tell them I’m making you work tomorrow.”

He hears a faint, non-existent laugh. “I’ll be fine. Can we just drop it, please?”

He doesn’t want to. What he wants to do is ask to speak to her parents and tell them to leave her the hell alone. Instead, he moves away from the wall and walks back towards the couch, looking for something to say to ease the sudden tension. “Did you get anything good for Christmas?” he asks as he sits back down.

“A sweater you’re going to enjoy making fun of,” she answers with a slightly more relaxed voice.

“Yeah?”

“Pink; feathery.”

He lies down and puts his feet on the couch, throwing his free arm behind his head to use as a pillow. “Feathery?”

“Yep.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’ll be looking forward to that.”

“I’m sure you will be,” she says with a chuckle of her own. 

He closes his eyes and talks quietly. “You’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yes,” she says softly. “Thank you though.”

He looks up at the ceiling. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes you did.”


	9. Two Weeks

He’s marking up the latest draft of the budget the next afternoon when he hears someone say hello and then hears her say hello back. He wasn’t expecting her at work until the next day, if at all, so his mind immediately flies to her family and the horrible things they must’ve said to make her leave Wisconsin early.

He stands up quickly and walks to his door. She’s at her desk by then, putting her purse into her bottom drawer and then unbuttoning her coat. He hesitates before walking to where her glass cubicle starts, and watches as she takes the coat off, her hair swishing a little and then landing perfectly around her shoulders. His fists clinch as he remembers the way it slid like silk through his fingers the other night. 

“Hey,” he says quietly.

She startles just a little bit, and then turns around and smiles warmly at him. “Hi.”

He takes a few steps closer to her. “Did something happen?”

“Happen?”

“You’re back early,” he says in way of explanation. 

“Oh,” she says, looking at him in some way that he can’t really describe. “No, I just had an early morning flight and I…” She blushes slightly and breaks eye contact, causing him to squint his eyes and watch her. He thinks she just said something, but he’s not sure what it was, and he wishes she’d finish her sentence. “I’m good, really.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods and smiles wider. There’s something in her eyes; excitement or happiness or… something. “Yep.”

He breathes a sigh of release and sits on the edge of her desk. “So, uh…” he trails off and nods with a smirk towards the ridiculous sweater she’s wearing. “This is the new sweater?” 

She laughs and he finds that he can’t remember when she last laughed at him. “It is.”

“It’s… feathery.”

She reaches down and hits the power button on her computer. “I told you it was.”

“You could take flight in that thing.”

“Are you enjoying this?”

He is, although what he really wants to do is cup her cheek in his hand and kiss her long and deep and slow. “How many birds had to die to make that?”

“Have your fun,” she says, doing her best to appear above it all even though she’s grinning right along with him. “This is the last time you’re going to see it.”

“Because it’s going to fly away when you take it off?”

“Because I only wore it today to appease my mother, who was touched that I chose to wear it home, and who won’t know that it’s going to Goodwill tomorrow.”

He chuckles and grins and feels better than he has in months.

“Are you done?” she asks with raised eyebrows.

He pretends to ponder this. “For now. I reserve the right to continue later.” 

“So noted,” she deadpans, shaking her head. “Now surely you have some work to do. What’d I miss?”

“Republican leadership sent back the budget proposal; I’m marking it up.”

“CJ’s giving you the budget?” she asks, both surprise and hope lacing her voice.

He shrugs. “For now.” 

“Have you told her about…” she trails off and tilts her head not at all subtly. 

He finds he’s amused by her today, but they can’t discuss this here, so he takes her hand and goes into his office. He closes the door behind them and looks at her. “I haven’t said anything.” His eyes follow hers as she looks down, and he sees that he still has her hand in an awkward grip. He drops it and continues looking at her hand. He liked it better in his.

“Do you think you should?” she asks after a quiet moment. 

He wants to take her hand again, softer this time, linking their fingers and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He almost has himself talked into it, but then she crosses her arms protectively over her chest, taking away his chance. He closes his eyes for just a second and re-focuses. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him. I don’t want to worry her for nothing if it’s not going to happen.”

“You also don’t want to spring it on her at the last second.”

He nods. She’s right; he’s going to have to warn CJ. “What about you?” he asks against his better judgment. “Have you…”

“I told human resources I’m leaving. I’ll be training someone new on Thursday and Friday.”

“Right,” he sighs. He knew that, he reminds himself. “Right.”

“But I haven’t decided what I’m doing next.”

“Ok,” he says quietly, biting his tongue so he doesn’t say something he’s not supposed to say. He’s not sure what’s off limits right now, except that she seemed freaked out by the hand thing.

She smiles again, which is good he thinks, but is strange. She hasn’t done that a lot lately; at least not genuine smiles that make her eyes dance and show her teeth, so he’s not sure what to make of it. Maybe visiting her family was good for her after all. Or maybe she’s happy that he’s not pushing her about the Santos thing. But the only reason he’s not doing that is because there’s nothing to push. It’s the day after Christmas at two o’clock in the afternoon and the Congressman hasn’t called. It’s not a good sign. 

“How did you manage to keep your office so clean?” 

Her question pulls him out of his little reverie and he looks at her. She’s looking around the small room.

“I uh… there wasn’t anything going on, so I didn’t have anything to mess up, I guess.”

She chuckles. “So it wasn’t an effort on your part.”

“Nah.”

“That shouldn’t surpr…” she trails off and looks back at him. “What’s that?”

His eyes widen a bit. “What’s what?”

She looks back at him and grins. “The box on your desk wrapped in red and gold paper with a bow on top.”

Shit. “It’s...” Damn. Damn. Damn. It’s her present, at least for the time being. He bought it on Saturday and he’s been back and forth on it a thousand times since. In fact, he’d planned to take it back that night.

She walks around the desk and picks up the small square card that came with the wrapping job he paid for. It’s almost blank; he hasn’t known what to say to her for days, so writing something down hadn’t proved easy. But it does have ‘Donna’ on it, so he’s been given away.

“Hmm…” she says, trying to play it cool but not quite hiding that bit of excitement in her voice. “The card has my name on it.”

She picks up the box and he winces. “I’m taking it back,” he blurts out.

Her head snaps up to his, her eyes wide and her face full of shock. “Oh… I…” She looks mortified now, and hurt. She drops the box and takes a step back, and it takes only a fraction of a second for him to realize what he’s said.

“No, I mean…” he takes a step towards her. “To get something else.”

“Josh,” she says, a fake smile plastered to her face. “You don’t have to get me anything. I know I tease you about it, but it’s just teasing. You shouldn’t feel obligated.”

Shit. In the span of five minutes things have gone from great to horrible. How do they keep doing that? “I don’t feel obligated,” he says, walking around the desk to where she is. “I just…” he sighs audibly. “I didn’t know what to get you.”

“Oh…kay…”

Wow is he screwing this up. He shakes his head and picks up the package, thrusting it into her hands. “Here.”

“What?”

He goes for a smile but it’s more of a wince. “Merry Christmas,” he says pathetically.

She looks down and stares at the package he’s holding out to her, then shakes her head. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t want me to have this,” she says looking back up at him.

“Yes I do!”

“No,” she says, shaking her head back and forth. “You don’t.”

“I do!”

“Josh!” she shouts. 

“Donna, I want you to have it. I went and bought it for you and everything.”

“But you just told me you were taking it back.”

That’s true; he did do that. “Take the gift.”

“No.”

He makes a strangled noise and leans against his desk. “You give someone something and they refuse to take it from you,” he mumbles while unwrapping it. “It’s an attaché case,” he says without looking at her. “I was going to get a necklace, because your neck is… well, really beautiful and I’ve always wanted to give you one but it’s not really something you give to your assistant. But after we… you know… you said that I…” He stops talking and starts pulling at the box flaps. “That I did that… so you’d stay with me, and I didn’t want you to think that was what the necklace was for. So I got you this instead. But then I thought you might think it was some sort of jab at you for leaving me. And it’s not personal enough, not really, not after… so I was going to go back tonight and get the necklace. Maybe. I wasn’t sure yet.”

He keeps his head down; he can’t look at her now. Not after that. He finally gets the attaché case out of the box and holds it between them. It’s black and sleek and smells of leather. “You can get your name engraved on it,” he mumbles without looking up. “But it takes two weeks and…” 

And then she’s kissing him, and damn it feels right. 

He stands upright and drops the attaché case somewhere in the vicinity of his desk, ignoring it when it falls to the floor. His hands go quickly around her waist and pull her flush against his body, and he can’t believe that after seven years here, he’s finally making out with Donna in his office. It’s a heady thought that brings up a thousand different fantasies he’s had in those seven years, and before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s got her up against the wall and fuck, her mouth tastes good.

It’s the intercom that interrupts them, and it’s probably a good thing since the door’s unlocked and his shirt’s partially unbuttoned. He drops his head to her shoulder and takes a few deep breaths; answering the phone that out of breath would not be wise.

Donna’s leaning against the wall cradling his head to her and breathing deeply as well. “I always swore to myself that we’d never do that here,” she says chuckling slightly.

He looks up and smirks a little bit. “Funny. I always swore to myself that someday we would.”

She shakes her head at him as he backs up and picks up the phone. “Yeah,” he says, still watching her.

“Josh, is Donna in there with you? Will Bailey called; he wants to know if she’s got a few minutes to meet with the Vice-President today.”


	10. Two Weeks

Reality comes crashing down around him in an instant. Things aren’t perfect, things aren’t easy, and things certainly aren’t figured out. He’s still looking at her and she’s still smiling, her lips swollen and her face flushed, but it suddenly seems unreal to him, like it didn’t even happen. Like he’s living two different lives; the one with her and the one without her.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. The phone feels heavy in his hands and all he really wants to do is throw it across the room. “I’ll tell her.”

He hangs up and looks away from her to his bookshelf. “Will called,” he says in a quiet, almost dead voice. “He wants you to meet with the Vice-President today.”

She doesn’t say anything, confirming that things are far from ok. He knows it’s ridiculous and beyond unlikely, but he finds himself wishing she’d say too damn bad, she’s not working for that idiot. She doesn’t though, and his curiosity finally gets the better of him and he looks over at her. She’s watching him with a look on her face that’s somewhere between resignation and anger. He knows his own face isn’t hiding his frustration, and suddenly they’re miles apart regardless of the two feet between them.

“I thought you were ok with this,” she finally says.

He furrows his eyebrows and stares hard at her. “I don’t know what gave you that impression.” 

“You haven’t said…”

“What the hell was I supposed to say, Donna?” he shouts loud enough for people in the bullpen to hear.

“You’re supposed to say ‘good luck with whatever decision you make, Donna,’” she yells back.

“You want me to wish you good luck with Russell? A child would make a better President!” He shouldn’t say anything like that in the White House; certainly not as loud as he just said that, but there’s no going back now.

Donna shakes her head quickly and lowers her voice. “I’m not having this fight with you again.”

“Hence me not saying anything,” he says, turning to face the wall.

The room goes silent save for their labored breathing. He stares at the wall, not really seeing it, and he can’t believe how badly they’ve messed this up.

“What are we doing?” she breathes out a long moment later. She’s not asking, not really, she’s just saying it to herself, but he finds himself answer anyway.

“You’re pulling away at all costs,” he says bitterly. “I’m trying to hold on.”

“Don’t,” she says in a stern, commanding voice. “Don’t turn this all around on me.”

He spins back to face her, his hands on his hips. “Why not? You’re the one who wants to leave.”

“Professionally,” she says emphatically, her hands balling into fists in front of her. “I want to leave professionally.”

“Which will destroy us personally.”

“It doesn’t have to!”

“Listen to us, Donna. It is.”

Her faces changes and she looks at him almost pleadingly. “Don’t let it. It doesn’t have to matter. Who I work for doesn’t have to mean anything to us personally.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks. “Pretend I don’t hate what you’re doing? Pretend it’s not beneath you? Pretend everything’s fine? You really think that will help us personally?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Hate it. Hate every minute that I work for him. But don’t let it affect…” she gestures between the two of them. “Don’t let it affect us personally.”

He chuckles harshly. “It affects us personally because it affects you personally. You don’t do this; you don’t work for the wrong guy to further your career. That’s not you. I know I did it; I know I made those mistakes.” He stops and pauses, then shrugs and looks at her again. “You’re better than that.”

His words give her pause, but only for a second. “So if I went to work for the EPA, you’d be ok with it?” she asks doubtfully.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. No, he wouldn’t be ok with it. He wants her with him and they both know it. There’s no use pretending. 

“That’s what I thought,” says quietly. She looks at the floor, then bends over and picks the attaché case from where it fell when they kissed.

“What’s so wrong with staying with me?” he asks, choking out the last word. “We’re a great team; why is that so bad?” 

She smiles, but it’s sad; she’s anything but happy. “In case I haven’t made myself clear enough over the last eight years, let me spell it out for you, Josh. I want to be with you in a way that has nothing at all to do with work.”

Her admission takes him by surprise even though what she says doesn’t. But if she can lay it out there, he can too. “And I want to be with you in every way, including work.”

“Josh…”

“Why can’t we have that?” he asks, and now it’s his turn to plead with her. “Why is that suddenly so wrong?”

She takes a deep breath and walks over to him, handing him the attaché case before walking towards the door. “Because you may want both, but given the choice, you choose the attaché case over the necklace every time,” she says softly before walking out the door. 

********** 

He feels like he’s riding a rollercoaster that just derailed. Donna’s gone for almost two hours, which means she didn’t walk into Will’s office and say ‘thanks but no thanks.’ He knows he’s made it worse; that by pushing he talked her into the job he was trying to talk her out of, but it’s as much her fault as it is his. She’s being pigheaded and stubborn; she knows she shouldn’t be working for Russell. He won’t take all the blame here.

Forty-five minutes after her departure from his office, after staring at the door and wondering what the hell she meant by the attaché case remark, and then being pissed off by it, he wanders over to CJ’s office. She’s busy trying to do everything that her staff could be doing if she’d trust them to do it, but that only makes the thought of leaving easier.

Her door is open, but she doesn’t notice him until he’s sitting across from her. When she looks up, he quietly says it. He’s approached someone about running for President, and if he agrees, he’ll be leaving. He doesn’t know yet, but he wants to her to be prepared.

She looks almost scared when he says it, like she doesn’t know what she’s going to do without him, and it’s the most valued he’s felt there in months. But she doesn’t delegate, and even though she does need him and she knows she needs him, she’s not using him.

He tells her it doesn’t have anything to do with her or the administration, which is only mostly true, but that Russell can’t and really shouldn’t beat Vinick and that either one of them will destroy what they’ve all spent seven years there doing. The old CJ would understand, but this one’s so busy holding on to this term that she can’t see beyond it to the next one. Still, she nods and tells him that if it doesn’t work out he damn-well better come back. He smiles at the glimpse of the CJ he used to know and gives her his word, then heads back to his office.

Donna’s only been back for five minutes when he has to leave for a meeting on the Hill, and they spend it avoiding each other. When he does leave, he spends three hours arguing with Hefley over the preliminary budget for next year. Hefley’s trying to get what he wants, but he’s not stupid enough to take them on the way he did a year earlier when the President’s numbers were in the toilet and he was too much of a father to be a leader, so Josh gets more than he gives. He gets back to the office a few minutes after six. She’s still there, but she leaves a half hour later and they still haven’t said a thing to each other.

********** 

The next day is pretty much the same, making it a hundred times worse. He’s in the office all day, which makes avoiding each other harder to do and completely obvious to everyone in the bullpen. They correspond through Windows Messenger. ‘Senator Roberts on line 1.’ ‘Toby’s looking for you.’ ‘I’m going to the OEOB.’ Things like that. At one point he needs a file he can’t find and yells for it. When she brings it to him, she avoids looking at him and turns to go without a word. 

“I chose the necklace; you just got back early,” he mumbles as she’s walking out the door. He doesn’t really say it to her, but he wants her to hear it. He’s been saying it to himself almost non-stop since she walked out of his office yesterday, including the two hours last night he spent drinking himself to oblivion. 

She stops walking but doesn’t turn to face him. “I’m not doing this here,” she says in a monotone voice before leaving. And he lets her, because as much as he hates to admit it, she’s right. This is not the place to do this.

She waits until he’s back from grabbing a burger in the mess before messengering him and telling him that she’s leaving for an appointment and will be back in an hour or so. He’s almost grateful for it, because it means less time together, which in turn means less awkward silences. 

She’s been gone about twenty-five minutes when there’s a tap on his door. He looks up expectantly and Janice tells him that Congressman Santos is at the front gate.

Josh’s eyes widen and he stands quickly and starts out of his office towards the lobby. “Tell them to let him in.”

He gets to the lobby just as the Ccongressman passes through the metal detectors in the lobby. “Josh,” he says with a smile.

Josh shakes his hand and starts them on the path towards his office. “Congressman,” he says partially excited and partially nervous. “How was your holiday?”

The Congressman raises an eyebrow. “A bit stressful, and yours?”

“Fine,” Josh replies even though it’s a lie. He ushers the Congressman into his office and shuts the door behind them, then stares at him, trying to figure out what he’s going to say. 

“My wife hates you,” the Congressman says out of the blue, surprising Josh enough to makes him smile an almost real smile. 

“I’m… sorry to hear that.”

“You’re both going to have to work hard to win her over. I suspect it’ll be easier for Ms. Moss than it will be for you.”

Josh glances down at the floor. He should be thrilled. This is what he wanted; this is the Congressman telling him that he’s going to run. But it won’t be the same without Donna and he finds the excitement nearly gone. 

“Sir…” 

“I don’t like being called sir,” the Congressman says, cutting him off.

“Well,” Josh drawls out. “That’s what one calls a candidate for President.”

“Hmmm…” the Congressman mumbles noncommittally. “What were you saying?”

“I was… I don’t think Donna’s going to be joining us, sir.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to be tougher to do without her. She’s an invaluable asset. But she…” he looks up to the ceiling and takes a breath. “She’s been working for me for a long time and she’d like to step out on her own professionally.”

“That’s a shame,” the Congressman replies. “I was looking forward to working with her.”

Josh nods. “So was I.”

The Congressman looks around the room. “Well then… where do we start?”


	11. Two Weeks

He brings in a box Thursday morning so he can start packing his office. He’s finishing out the week, but that’s it; New Year’s Day is Monday and he’s leaving for Houston on Tuesday where the Congressman will announce. From there, they’re heading to New Hampshire. The box makes it all seem more real, but not as real as it will feel when security examines its contents before letting him leave with it. 

Donna isn’t at her desk when he walks by. In his office there’s a post-it note on his computer screen telling him she has a meeting and will be in around ten. It’s the third one of these ‘meetings’ this week; the fourth if he counts Monday when Will called and summoned her away from her current job and to her future job as if purposely rubbing salt in Josh’s wound. He wonders if she actually thinks he doesn’t know who she’s meeting with or if this is her own way of reminding him that it’s none of his business.

He puts the box down on his desk and looks around his office. It’s full and cluttered, but most of the things in it aren’t his. With a sigh, he starts pulling things off the wall. A picture of him with his grandfather, his degrees, a picture of his parents… They’re all dusty and he thinks if it were Donna packing up for him, she’d wipe them down first. He doesn’t though; he just puts them carefully into the box. He walks over to the bookshelf next; there’s a picture there of him with Sam, Toby and CJ and it strikes him how young he used to be.

He goes through the bookshelf pulling down the few books there that belong to him. Once they’re in the box, it’s pretty full. He’ll have to bring another in tomorrow to finish up.

He sits down and works for a few hours on the budget. He wants it to be in good shape when he hands it over to CJ; Hafley will walk all over her if he sees the opportunity. As it stands now, they’re getting everything they want for education, healthcare, and social security. They’re giving a little on welfare, but it’s not as much as the republicans are giving most other places.

She gets to the office at 10:30. He hears her out at her desk talking to people. But it’s after eleven when she walks into his office for the first time. “Ronna Morgan is on…” she stops suddenly and he looks up from his notes. Her eyes are glued to the box on the corner of his desk. 

“Who’s Ronna Morgan?”

“She’s from…” she stops talking and drags her eyes away from the box and up to him. “She’s from Congressman Santos’ office. He’s...” she questions.

He nods. “Yeah.”

She looks away again towards the box. She’s trying to figure something out and he doesn’t think it’s going to take her long to do it. 

He picks up the phone and talks to Ronna. They’ve booked the Harris County Courthouse steps for Thursday morning. She’s still working on press, but she wanted him to know that they’re set for the announcement. He thanks her and she says she’s looking forward to meeting him in Houston, then they hang up and he looks back at Donna. She’s figured it out.

“You didn’t find out today.”

He shakes his head. “He came here Tuesday.”

“Where was I?”

“In one of your meetings,” he says, stressing the word as if it’s a joke.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I got back?”

He glares at her. “You’re working for Russell, Donna. That makes the Congressman’s campaign something we can’t discuss.”

Her eyes widen in shock. “I…”

“Don’t,” he says, looking back down at the report on his desk. “This was your decision and you made it regardless of what it was doing to us. Don’t complain about the consequences now.” He regrets saying it the second the words leave his mouth but he’s too angry and humiliated and hurt to take it back, so he pretends he’s reading. She stays there for almost a full minute; he can feel her stare piercing him like a sword, but he doesn’t look up. When she finally leaves, he lets his head fall to his desk and wonders if she’s hurting as badly as he is.

He works until almost midnight that night, on both administration and campaign things, and then heads to Mac’s to get completely and totally drunk. Instead, he finds himself nursing the same beer for almost an hour.

All day long he’s been pushing the idea of a future without her out of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the daunting task in front of him. The Congressman has practically no money saved, and why would he? He hadn’t planned on campaigning. But that means that it’s only going to be Josh, the Congressman, and two of the Congressman’s staff. Staff Josh knows nothing about, which means he’s going to have to do this alone. 

He tries to psych himself up for the journey; it’s one he’s always loved and he should be excited to get started. But instead, he pictures running into her at debates and rallies and hotels. He pictures them making snide comments to each other, or worse yet, not having anything to say at all. He pictures awkward silences and working against each other and a lack of trust between them that has never been there before. He pictures lying awake at night and wishing he was holding her like he had that one time, that one amazing time that he’ll never have again. It’s a thought he can’t bear and he knows he’s going to have to do something.

********** 

Friday is much the same. He brings a box into the office and packs up the last of his personal items. His baseball mitt, a few shirts and ties, his tuxedo. He wanders out to the bullpen where Donna’s doing the same and watches as she uses a tissue to wipe off a picture of the two of them from one of the inaugural balls. She stares at it for a minute with the smallest smile on her face and then wraps it in newspaper and places it carefully into the box. He turns and goes back into his office, collapsing into his chair. He has no idea what they’re doing.

The next time he comes out of his office, she’s explaining something to Janice. He assumes she called human resources and cancelled the new assistant since no one would be there to assist. He watches her move for a minute; watches the way she talks with her hands and chews on her thumb when she’s thinking. She glances up and catches his eye, but he doesn’t look away so they just look at each other until Janice says something and pulls Donna’s attention back. Then he turns slowly and heads down the hallway towards CJ’s office.

He meets with CJ and Toby for almost an hour, briefing them on the budget and the few other things he’s been working on. Toby’s been giving him the cold shoulder since finding out he was leaving and CJ’s too overwhelmed to care about anything else right now; between the two of them and Donna, he feels like an outsider. He never pictured leaving like this.

When he gets back to the bullpen an hour after he left, Margaret, Ginger and Carol are standing at Donna’s desk talking to her. As he walks past, he hears her say she’s not sure she can, then Carol’s talking to him.

“We’re taking Donna to lunch,” she says without question. 

He looks at Donna, who looks almost hopeful. She’s been leaving at will this whole week and he’s said absolutely nothing about it so he doesn’t understand why she thinks he’d say no to this. “Ok,” he says, which is probably the nicest thing he’s said to her since Monday. He’s not proud of that.

But Donna’s look goes from hopeful to disappointed, which only confuses him more. Surely he didn’t answer that question wrong. She mumbles her thanks and puts on her coat, then follows the others out while he watches her. She used to look back when she’d leave and flash him a smile, and he used to love to watch her and wait for it, but she hasn’t done that in months and she doesn’t do it this time.

He finally turns and walks back into his office. His box shoved full of clothes is on the corner of his nearly empty desk and he immediately stiffens. It’s her last day. When she put in her two weeks, she told him he was taking her to lunch on her last day. Shit.

He rushes back out to the bullpen, but she’s gone. “Shit,” he says loudly enough to turn a few heads. He hits the glass partition with his palm and shoots a look to an intern staring at him, then turns and goes back into his office again. 

He sits down and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. He feels her slipping away, feels them tumbling towards destruction, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. But if he read her face right out there, she feels it too and wants to stop it just as badly as he does. And that at least gives him hope.

He sits there, thinking instead of working, until it’s time for his meeting with Ed and Larry. The legislative department will be answering to them for the time being, which is the one thing he’s not worried about in regards to the administration. They spend a few hours going over upcoming legislation, hopeful legislation and legislation that doesn’t have a prayer but should be worked on anyway. When the meeting is over, they both shake his hand, tell him he’ll be missed, and wish him good luck. He thanks them in a manly non-emotional way, but what he really wants to do is hug them for being the only ones who’ve seemed to care that he’s leaving.

But before he knows it, it’s after four and he’s making his way to the Oval Office at the President’s request. When he gets there, Leo’s there as well. The President hands Josh a glass of brandy and pours one for himself while Leo opens a club soda, then they sit on the couches and Josh lets them give him advice that he doesn’t really need. They can’t support his candidate and he knows it, but they can do this, so he listens intently and soaks as much of it in as possible.

He’s emotionally exhausted by the time he leaves the Oval Office and walks back towards his. When he walks into the bullpen, the light in Donna’s area is off and there’s nothing on her desk. He comes to a stop and stands there staring at it, the last of his strength draining quickly. There’s a lump in his throat and a hollow spot inside his chest and he can’t believe it’s come to this.

“Did you need anything else before I go?”

His head snaps towards his office and she’s standing in the doorway holding a box and looking at him with trepidation. He doesn’t say anything at first; just breathes raggedly and watches her. Yes, he thinks. He does need something; her. 

“You uh… you have everything?” he asks, nodding towards the box in her hands.

She nods. “Yeah. I was just…” 

Giving them one more chance to not leave things like this, he finishes in his head. “Would…” he lets out a deep breath. “Seven o’clock be a good time to pick you up?”

Her eyes narrow with confusion. “What?”

“For dinner,” he clarifies in what he hopes isn’t a nervous voice. “I promised to take you to dinner on your last day.”

Her eyes light up with unshed tears. “Really?” she whispers.

He takes three steps, closing the distance between them. “I was thinking Citronelle,” he says quietly. Citronelle is a romantic restaurant, one of the most romantic in the city, and while he’s not a fan of French food, he wants there to be no mistaking what he’s saying. You’d never take your assistant to Citronelle and the shock on her face says she knows that. “Where I will spend the evening reminding myself that giving you a job eight years ago doesn’t entitle me to choose your next one.”

She smiles widely, but then quickly suppresses it and watches him before speaking quietly. “And where I’ll apologize profusely for returning a gift that I absolutely loved and that was incredibly thoughtful.”

He studies her for a moment and then barely nods. Reaching out, he puts a hand on the box she’s holding, letting his fingers brush hers. “And where we’ll figure this thing out so we don’t ever have to have another week like this one?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, her eyes full of hope he hasn’t seen in ages. “Seven o’clock?”

He nods and leans in, kissing her forehead. He’s never done that in the bullpen, but she doesn’t work for him, so screw it. “Seven o’clock.”


	12. Two Weeks

He doesn't think first dates are really supposed to be like this. They're supposed to be full of awkward pauses and small talk that doesn't matter and wondering how far she's going to let you get, but they're not supposed to be about avoiding topics and pretending everything is great when you both know that very little is.

Still, it's a start, and for now he's willing to overlook those other things and concentrate on what he has. Which is Donna, dressed to kill in something that could be considered by some to be somewhat revealing, with her hair up and little twirly things hanging down, sitting at a table of white linens with the glow from candles surrounding her face. He's seen her dressed up countless times, seen her looking as amazing as she does now, but this time it's for him. And that's never been the case before.

The band in the corner plays a Frank Sinatra number while they're waiting on their food and he asks her to dance. It's primarily so he can wrap his arms around her small waist and touch the large expanse of back left exposed by her dress, something he's never been allowed to do before, but it doesn't hurt that although he's not stealthy, he's actually quite good on the dance floor. And for a few minutes they can be together without trying to find things to talk about that don't include work.

She wraps her arms around his neck out on the dance floor, which is something they've done numerous times, but he pulls her closer than ever before; close enough to feel her chest and hips against his. She doesn't look him in the eye, but he can see a small smile grace her lips and a slight flush on her cheeks. She smells incredible, and he buries his face in her neck, also something he's never done before. It's not long before her hands find their way into his hair, and suddenly he's counting the new and different things he can do with her now if they can just figure this mess out.

But when they go back to their table, silence crowds them again. They're both work-centered people, so to take that out of their conversation leaves them with little to say. He still doesn't know how they're going to make this work; the only thing going for them is that one of them should be unemployed by late spring or early summer. Odds would say it's going to be him, but it's not. He knows it.

She spends far too long telling him about her trip to Wisconsin for Christmas, and he spends way too much energy nodding and smiling and asking questions about it. It's not that he doesn't want to hear about it, but the detail she goes into is only proof that she knows this is not going well. When the silence stretches on for too long at one particular point, he reaches over and takes her hand, tangling their fingers together. He knows he must've touched her hand before, in fact he knows he held both of her hands the night they spent together, relishing in the feel of her tight grip as she climaxed for the first time. But tonight her hand is softer than he ever imagined it could be, and it makes him want to touch other parts of her and compare.

She looks at their joined hands and then up at him. "I need to tell you something," she says quietly.

He raises an eyebrow and tries to squash the sudden swimming of his stomach.

"About the Vice-President," she continues.

"No," he says, sitting up abruptly and pulling his hand back into safe territory. She looks shocked and he takes a deep breath and leans in to speak quietly to her. "I know I was an ass about it yesterday," he admits without much trouble, shockingly. "But we can't talk about work."

"But…"

"Donna, I'm going to do whatever I have to do to win. Don't give me anything I can use."

She starts to say something, but their waitress interrupts by bringing the bill. He keeps his eyes on Donna, but reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, then thumbs through it and hands the woman his Visa card. By the time she's walked away from their table, Donna's face has hardened and her jaw has set. Neither of them says anything until he's paid and they're in his car on their way back to her apartment.

After a few blocks of driving without sound, he sighs. "I didn't mean to upset you back there," he says in a warmer tone.

"Why don't you believe in me?" she asks harshly out of the blue.

This causes him pause and he looks over at her with a confused look on his face. "What?"

"Why did you spend two weeks telling me not to work for Russell instead of letting me make that decision for myself?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying my damndest to let that go," he shoots back, looking forward at the road. "I have no idea in hell how we're supposed to… whatever… while you're working for that…" he stops suddenly and takes a deep breath. "While we're working against each other. But I'm here and I'm trying."

She shakes her head, then turns and looks out her window. "That's not what I asked."

"No," he spits out. And damn it, how did the anger surface again? "You asked why I don't believe in you. Even though it's me who believes you're too good to work for him. Even though it's me who believes you should be working on a harder, more rewarding campaign as the deputy director. I'm not the one who doesn't believe in you, Donna," he says, the implication clear.

She turns and looks at him. "Yet you didn't believe I could make that decision. You believed instead that you needed to manipulate me to show me the better candidate and then make it abundantly clear that if I wanted to be with you, I had to do things your way."

"That is absolutely not true!" he yells, screeching to a halt at a red light. "I'm here, right now, trying to make whatever the hell this is work! And I haven't said a damn thing about you choosing to work for Russell. Not one thing."

"You're missing the point, Josh!" she yells through gritted teeth. "You didn't believe in me to make the right decision."

"Sorry to be blunt, Donna, but you didn't make the right decision!"

She turns and looks out the window again and he tries to regret what he said. He knows it had to hurt, knows how hard she works to prove herself, knows damn-well that it didn't help anything. But he's hurting too, and to be accused of not believing in her? For the longest time, he was the only one who did.

The light turns green and he shifts his attention back to the road. They're only two blocks from her apartment now and the car remains silent the entire way. He finds an empty spot not far from her building and pulls into it, then turns off the engine. He considers letter her out and leaving, but as stubborn as he is, he knows he can't leave for Texas on Tuesday with things like this. They've got to fix it before they run into each other in New Hampshire and are too pissed and too busy to try.

She, however, must have other ideas, because without a word she undoes her seatbelt and starts to open the door. He's about to say something when she knocks him off the ground. "I turned down Will's job offer."

He snaps his head in her direction. She's looking out the window, her hand still on the door knob, and she's very still and very quiet, as if she hadn't spoken. "What?" he asks dumbfounded.

"I turned down Will's job offer," she repeats just as quietly, still not moving.

"When…" he shakes his head. "When did you…"

"Yesterday," she says, finally turning to look at him. "When I found out he was no longer the best candidate for the job. Why didn't you believe in me to make that decision for myself?"

His eyes widen. "You didn't make that decision! You decided..."

"There was no decision to make until the Congressman agreed to run," she says, cutting him off. "You just assumed I'd decided, even though I specifically told you I hadn't."

"And you let me believe that!" he yelled.

"Yes," she says, nodding. "I did. And maybe that was wrong, but I wanted you to want to be with me regardless of that decision. I wanted you to pick me, Josh. For once, I wanted you to pick me!"

"That's what tonight was," he shrieks in that unflattering voice of his that he hates.

"Yes," she says quietly with a slight nod. "Which is why I tried to tell you at dinner."

He lets his head fall to his chest, half-relieved half-scared. "What are we doing?" he asks himself as he scrubs a hand over his face.

She laughs humorlessly. "Making each other miserable."

He didn't expect an answer, but hers actually helps and he looks cautiously over at her. "You're miserable too?"

She looks at him thoughtfully. "If you're miserable, I'm miserable. That's how it works."

He watches her for a second before ever so slowly reaching a hand up and grazing her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch and he's struck again by how damn beautiful she is. "I don't want you to be miserable," he whispers.

This makes her smile; he can feel the corner of her mouth turn up against his palm. She opens her eyes and looks at him. "Can we talk about this without yelling?" she asks softly.

He takes a deep breath. That's not the easiest request. Finally he nods. "Yeah," he says quietly.

With a little grin, she adds, "Can we do it inside so I can take off these shoes?

He chuckles, but it takes him a second to willingly pull his hand from her face so he can get out of the car. When he does get out, he waits for her to round the car and join him, then lets his hand find that place on her lower back meant just for him as they cross the nearly deserted street and head up the sidewalk towards her door.

He instinctively goes into strategy mode, devising ways to convince her to work with him now that she's turned down Will's offer, but he forces himself to put it out of his mind. The worst case scenario is gone from the picture. They might not be working together, but at least they won't be working against each other. If she doesn't want to work with him, he's going to have to live with it. More than that, really, he's going to have to be happy for her regardless of what she chooses to do next.

They make it to her building silently, but when she starts digging through her purse for her keys he leans forward slightly and kisses her neck. He's not trying to distract them from the issues at hand, but usually her hair covers her neck and tonight it's exposed because of the up thing she did to her hair. She stiffens a bit, and he hates that they can't just be one of those couples that are new and exciting and without baggage.

She does kick off her shoes as soon as they enter her apartment. She takes off her coat next and hangs it up, then holds a hanger out to him. After a brief pause, he takes off his coat and hangs it up next to hers, then looks at them there together in the closet. That looks right, he thinks to himself.

"Do you want to…" she trails off gesturing to the couch.

"Yeah, sure," he says. He walks to the couch and awkwardly sits down, then watches as she chooses to walk to a chair instead, isolating herself from him.

Silence descends again, both of them waiting for the other to start. She's staring at the wall, he's staring at his shoes, and he starts thinking about what she said in the car. He finally looks up at her and says, "I believe in you," because he does and it both angers and upsets him that she doesn't think so. That should be something she never questions and never has to question.

She turns her head and looks over at him. After a second she nods, but he's not convinced.

"I panicked," he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You'd just quit and I was desperate to make you stay. When Will told me about the job offer and I went into strategy mode."

"He was the best option we had when I accepted that position. You've worked too hard to hand the White House over to the republicans."

"You've worked hard too," he says pointedly. They all have, of course, but she's forever diminishing her own work there because of the position she held.

She smiles awkwardly. "I know, but…"

"Don't do that," he says shaking his head. "The only person who thinks you were just an assistant there is you."

"Josh, I was an…"

"My successes there had everything to do with you," he says, cutting her off.

She seems genuinely surprised by that statement and tears spring to her eyes. It takes her several seconds to find her voice and even then it's no more than a whisper. "Thank you."

"I should've told you that years ago."

"You have," she says a bit stronger. "You haven't used those words, but you've told me."

"I believe in you," he says again, because it's so incredibly important for her to believe.

This time when she nods, it is convincing and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"I think I expected you to drop Russell as soon as Santos came into the picture," he says, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning over to look at the floor. "It hadn't occurred to me that you might say no, so when you didn't say yes, I told myself your decision was made and that it was my job to change your mind." He rubs a hand over the back of his neck and sits back up again. "But I tried to let you decide for yourself. When you were in Wisconsin I really tried. I just…" He raises an eyebrow and looks over at her. "I'm not so good at that."

She smiles slightly at him. "Patience isn't one of your virtues, I know."

He smiles back but it fades. "And I know you think I… that night, that I…" he can't say it even now. He turns his head and looks out window at the black sky. "That I did that so you'd…"

"I never should've said that," she whispers with a shaky voice. "I'm so sorry I said that."

He closes his eyes. "I just wanted to be with you," he says so softly he wonders if she hears him. "I'd waited so long and I just… didn't want to wait any more."

He hears movement and opens his eyes. In the reflection of the glass he watches as she gets up and walks to the couch. He turns his head and she's standing in front of him, then after a brief pause she straddles him with her knees on either side of his thighs. "I'm sorry," she says, cupping his cheeks in her hands. "That night was so wonderful… so amazing… and I turned it into something ugly and I'm sorry. I'm so… so, sorry."

He thought it would be hard to let go of that, but the agony on her face and the tears pooled in her eyes make it easy and he nods. She closes her eyes briefly and he watches one of the tears escape and roll down her cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb and she leans forward, wrapping herself around him and resting her chin on his shoulder.

They sit like that for a few minutes, neither of them talking, and he finds himself wondering what this means; if she's going to work with him or if she's taking the EPA job. He's going to have to live with it either way, but if they're not working against each other it'll be an easier pill to swallow. But he puts that out of his mind, or at least tries to, and pulls her tightly against his body.

"NOW has an opening in their legislation department," she whispers into his neck a minute later. "I have a second interview in the morning."

He closes his eyes tighter and tries to fight off the thought of the next eleven months on the road alone followed by eight years in the White House without her there to walk with him. "Kay," he whispers back, tightening his grip a little. Being with her part of the time will never be enough for him, but he's willing to take what he can get. He needs her too much to not have her at all.

He feels her mouth twitch against his neck and hopes he's made her happy. She pulls back a moment later and his hands drift around her back to land on her hips. She looks down at him and smiles. "Yeah?"

He tries for a smile, but doesn't really manage it. He's happy for her, he is, but that doesn't make it any easier. "You'd be a good fit at NOW."

"You think so?"

"I do," he says with a slight nod.

"Am I a good fit for the Santos campaign?" she whispers.

"You're a perfect fit for the Santos campaign," he says emphatically.

She watches him for a second and then slides off of him and sits on the coffee table in front of him. The loss of her warmth causes him to groan, but she takes his hands in hers and lays them in her lap. He knows she's about to say something, and he knows it's going to be important, so he scoots closer to the edge of the couch and looks at her carefully.

"I have reservations," she says slowly. "About working for the campaign."

"He'll win," he says with determination. "If that's what you're worried about. I know it's a long shot but he'll win."

She shakes her head and smiles. "Of course he'll win; he has you. I knew he'd win the very second you told me he was running."

There's a clenching in his heart and he finds himself lost in her eyes. He wants to thank her, but his throat is dry and he doubts anything will come out, so he pulls their hands to his mouth and kisses her knuckles.

"What about this?" she asks, gently pulling her hands free and gesturing between them.

He grabs one hand in mid air and pulls it to his chest. "This happens regardless of what you choose."

Her eyes light up. "And if I choose to work with you?"

There's a feeling of hope there he hasn't felt all week and he can actually feel his heart rate increase. "Then we go into it making sure everyone knows the deal. The Congressman won't care, and I'm long past the point of paying attention to what others think."

"Deputy Campaign Director, right? Not deputy to the Campaign Director?"

He nods. "Deputy Campaign Director. You're the only one I trust to do it."

She raises an eyebrow. "So I'd get the guy and the job?"

"You're stuck with the guy, I'm afraid. If you want it, you get the job too."

She bites her lip and squints her eyes before smiling widely. "I want the job."

For the last two weeks, he's felt like he was drowning, but with those four words he breaks the surface. "You do?" he asks in an excited and not at all quiet voice while jumping up off the couch.

She nods quickly and stands. "I do," she says, matching his tone.

And then he's crushing her to his body and holding on tighter than he ever has to anything.

"Thank you," she says, holding on just as tightly. "Thank you for making me part of this."

He pulls back just enough to get to her lips. "Thank you," he whispers before kissing her slowly, deeply, his fingers tracing her jaw. She sighs and buries a hand in his hair, kissing him back until they both run out of breath. Breathing heavily, he leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. And he knows, knows for certain, that everything's going to be ok. Because he's never letting go of her again.


End file.
